#origins wolverine x fem reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lubdubology · 1 month ago

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When Things Turn Green Again

SYNOPSIS: Hoping to mend the pain of your broken heart and bury the memory of your failed marriage, you turn towards the woods. A cabin was left in your name and it’s the exact distraction you were looking for. What you didn’t anticipate is meeting a quiet, ruggedly handsome man along the way who helps you heal.

PAIRING: Logan x fem!reader

WC: 11k

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; mentions of cheating/divorce; emotional trauma; fluff; sexual innuendos; brief mentions of drinking; dirty talk; slight dom!Logan; oral (f receiving); fingering; doggy style; cock warming; sex with feelings; unprotected p in v

A/N: I pictured either Origins!Logan or Wolverine!Logan, but I think you can envision any Logan you’d prefer. And again thanks to @joelsgoldrush for the support through writing this ❤️ I really do love this piece I wrote and I hope you do too. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! And thank you to everyone who has read, commented, liked and reblogged both Soft Edges and Til The Sun Turns Black—I never imagined either of those stories reaching over 1k notes.

The gravel crunches under your tires as you roll down the long driveway. Memories bloom deep in your chest as you near the cabin, of times simpler than this, unburdened by trappings of real life. You spent your formative years out here in the woods with your grandfather. Summers spent learning how to fish on the lake; how to recognize the poisonous berries from the nonpoisonous ones; and making fires, roasting marshmallows long after the sun had gone down.

Your grandfather had helped build this cabin. He’d always preferred the outdoors and solitude from people—with the obvious exception of your grandmother and mother—and he’d often come here to escape. Especially after he lost them both.

The cabin comes into view through the trees just starting to unfurl their spring foliage. Patches of snow still dot the landscape but the wet brown of winter is losing to spring’s verdant hues. The structure has seen better days, last having been lived in over ten years ago.

A stab of regret pierces your chest. The cabin was willed to you when your grandfather died, but this was your first trip up here since the funeral. You planned to, of course, but as the old saying goes, life happened. Now, you’re hoping the old place can give you something to sink your energy into besides thinking about your failed marriage.

You park the truck and step out, surveying the property. The shrubs and flower beds are overgrown and choked with old growth and weeds. Years worth of leaves rest upon the roof and clog the gutters. The front porch has several loose or missing spindles and you’re almost afraid to step up onto the old boards. Proving yourself right, the wood groans and creaks beneath your feet, certain spots threatening to give way.

“That’s going to be a fun project,” you mutter to yourself.

Opening the front door, you’re met with the damp mustiness of a long closed up space. A layer of dust seems to coat nearly every surface and cobwebs linger in the corners. You’re hoping the repairs needed inside the cabin are more cosmetic than costly.

You open up the old blinds, letting the early morning light filter in the room. It’s not a large space, an open kitchen, living room and dinning area with separate bedroom and attached bathroom. A small set of steps leads up to a loft, which also doubles as a sleeping space or bonus area.

You unload your belongings from the truck, tucking them away inside the bedroom, before opening all the windows to let in the fresh air. Thankfully, the glass and protective screens are in relatively good repair—a few need replacing, but an easy enough job. You feel a sense of purpose flourish within you, something you haven’t felt for months and you wonder if this is just the reprieve you need to find yourself again.

+++

You spend the morning taking inventory of the repairs needed around the cabin to make it immediately livable. Jotting down a list of supplies, you hop in your truck and head into town to hit up the hardware store.

The owner, George, recognizes you from previous trips with your grandfather when you were younger. He greets you warmly and helps you find everything you need. As you’re checking out, he asks, “Run into Logan yet?”

“Logan?”

He nods his head. “Shares a property line with you. Has a cabin of his own just about a quarter mile north of yours. Asked him to keep his eye out on the place.”

“Oh, well, that was nice of him,” you comment, stuffing your receipt in your purse.

George shrugs. “Figured it would give him something different to do. Doesn’t interact much with people.”

“Guess I’ll just have to introduce myself then,” you say, lifting your bags up off the checkout counter.

“Good luck with that,” George responds with a huffed laugh. “He’s not one for small talk.”

You give George a polite smile and leave the store, bags in hand. But the conversation sparks your curiosity and you find yourself thinking of the man who shares the woods with you. You promised yourself once you were settled, you’d make the short hike towards his place and introduce yourself.

Arriving back at the cabin, you park the truck and hop out, stopping short when you spot a lone figure walking around from the back of your property. You can’t stop the prickle of anxiety that zips up your spine as the figure comes closer, but he doesn’t see you yet, his eyes on the ground as he walks.

You shut the truck door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing off the trees. He looks up then and you suck in a short breath as his rugged features come into view—well trimmed but scruffy beard, wild dark hair and a fit muscular frame you can see even under the flannel of his shirt.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. You can feel a blush creep across your face and you grip the bags in your hands tighter just to feel something other than the hammering of your heart in your chest.

He stops short of where you’re standing and jerks a thumb behind him. “Turned your electrical breaker on,” he says without introduction and you can only stare at him.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I, uh—thanks.”

He tilts his head and looks at you and you feel like you’re on fire under his glare. It’s an inquisitive one, like he can’t quite figure out what you’re doing in a place like this and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. And yet, you don’t want him to stop looking at you.

“Right,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for something. He fishes out a key and holds it in your direction. “This is yours.”

You shift the bags, so you’re holding them all in one hand and reach for the key. Your fingertips brush against his just briefly, but it’s enough to set sparks along your skin and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. As he steps back from you, you blurt out your name and then immediately wish for a swift death at your awkwardness.

God, this was embarrassing.

It’s like you’ve never interacted with humans before.

He gives the barest hint of a smile. “Logan.”

“Nice to meet you, Logan,” you say, just so you can taste his name in your mouth.

Logan nods and turns to head down the path that leads away from your cabin and deeper into the woods. You watch him go, his figure fading further into the distance and you can’t help but think, I’m in trouble.

+++

You spend the rest of the day keeping busy around the cabin—wiping down dusty surfaces, sweeping up cobwebs, replacing broken light bulbs—but your mind never strays far from Logan and the inexplicable pull you have towards him.

You’ve dated. You were married. You weren’t a stranger to the opposite sex and physical attraction, but this felt like more. Like an unavoidable pull between you and him and you’ve just been spun into his orbit.

And that attraction terrifies you.

Over the next few days, you try and shove him from your mind. It helps that you haven’t seen him again, but your eyes inevitably dart towards the path leading away from your cabin as if you’re expecting him to come walking through.

Then, the idea comes to you late one night as you’re sitting in front of the fire, watching the flames lick higher. No matter how hard you had tried, Logan remained firmly planted in your mind, his roots stubborn and unyielding.

Your grandfather always said your grandmother’s cooking was always something that warmed his heart.

But as you walk the small path towards Logan’s property you briefly wonder if you’ve lost your mind. You carry the small pie dish in your hands and as his cabin grows closer you’re actually contemplating turning back and forgetting the whole thing.

Who the hell bakes pies for people any more?

His cabin is smaller than yours, a little more rustic and worn, which seems fitting based on the little you know about him. Several piles of firewood line the roofed porch and at the opposite end, a single chair and table sit in front of the window. With one last shaky inhale, you climb the steps and rap your knuckles against the door. From inside you hear heavy footfalls and then the door opens.

Logan looks down at you and then towards the dish in your hands, an odd expression crossing his handsome features.

“I made you a pie,” you blurt unceremoniously and you instantly wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Logan just continues to stare at you and you think you see the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. But maybe not.

“I, uh, my grandfather lived in the cabin next to yours and it’s mine now. I’m fixing it up, because…well, just because and he taught me to pick berries as a kid? So, I did that and I made you this,” you finish in a ramble, flames of embarrassment licking across your skin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes flick down at the dish in your hands again and you hold it up a bit higher, nudging it closer towards him. As he reaches out to take it, his fingers brush against yours and you again feel electricity tingle down your fingertips. If he notices it too, he says nothing, not that he’s said anything since you showed up on his porch.

Logan tucks the dish closer to his body and gives you a slight nod. You take that as a good sign and step back to leave. “Okay, cool, cool. Well, um, enjoy. I made sure all he berries were the edible ones so you don’t end up throwing up everywhere.”

At that he actually huffs a chuckle. “Good to know,” he finally says, his voice warm and rich and just a bit gruff.

“Right, well, enjoy!” You turn to leave and can feel his stare against your back and it takes all your remaining functioning brain cells to walk normally.

You spend the next few days trying to forget all about your ill-fated attempt to play neighbor, figuring if he didn’t want to know you before, he definitely didn’t after that.

You’re coming back from a hike when you spot Logan through the trees walking away from your place, hands tucked deep within his pockets. Your heart quickens in your chest as you walk up to the front door and find the baking dish sitting on the old welcome mat. It’s freshly washed with a folded up piece of paper sitting inside—Thank you.

You’re certain your smile could rival the light from the sun.

+++

It becomes a routine over the next few weeks—you bringing him food and him returning the dish, all without exchanging any words. You’re thankful he’s not much of a talker because you can’t seem to stop making a fool of yourself around him.

And you don’t know why.

He’s a handsome man, that anyone can see, but you’ve never been so flustered around a beautiful man before.

There’s something else about Logan you can’t pinpoint that sets your heart fluttering behind your ribs. He seems lonely in the same way you are, and you wonder if he’s out here to lick and heal old wounds just like you. You have an inexplicable want to help him, even if that means sharing your food leftovers with him and trying to chip away at the wall that surrounds him.

A part of you is hoping he can help break down your walls, too.

You’re waist deep under the kitchen sink when a knock on the door drags you from fixing the leaking drain.

“Ah, fuck,” you curse, trying to maneuver out of the space while also not spilling the stagnant water left in the sink trap. As you set the old drain down you call out, “Just a second!”

You wipe your hands against your thighs and swing the door open to find Logan standing there, your glass baking dish from yesterday in his hands. For a second you blink silently at him, unable to think of anything but the fact that you’re wearing grease stained overalls and probably smell like a swamp.

“Logan, hi,” you finally say, brushing your hair out of your face.

He gives you a strange look as he hands the dish back to you. You open your mouth to speak when he interrupts you, “Why do you feed me?”

His question hangs in the air and you freeze. Of all the things he could have asked, you weren’t sure why you didn’t expect that one. His voice is a little gruff, but underneath there’s something that makes your heart race. Something vulnerable.

You swallow and grip the edge of the glass dish. Logan stares at you, his gaze intense, and you feel exposed. Like he’s trying to dissect you with just a look.

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” you finally admit. “You just…seem like you could use some kindness.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged, and you can feel your pulse quicken. “I can stop if—if you want.”

“No,” he says, his voice rough, but with an undercurrent of tenderness. “No, you don’t have to stop. Just not used to people doin’ things like that for me.”

His admission catches you off guard being the first real piece of personal information he’s shared with you. You’ve gleaned certain things from George—he’s told you about Logan being a mutant and a few pieces of his past—but you know there’s still a world of history hiding behind his loner facade that he keeps hidden. You’re hoping eventually he lets you take a peak inside.

“Everyone deserves kindness, Logan,” you say.

His gaze flickers, a shadow of something crossing his features that makes your heart ache. He shifts on his feet and stares down at the dish in your hands. “I’m not so sure of that,” he replies.

“Well, I am.”

Logan’s eyes drag back up to yours and you try to calm the nervous energy that bubbles under your skin as his stare presses into you. He gives you a small nod then before turning to leave.

He pauses as he hits your driveway and looks back at you, cursing lowly to himself. Scratching at the back of his head, he walks back up the steps and pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket. “I, uh, here,” he says uncertainly as he hands you the small cloth bag.

You can only stare as you take the bag from him, the gift surprisingly light in your hand, but the gesture heavy with unspoken emotion. Your mind races as you think of what could be inside and your heart hammers loudly in your chest.

Logan stands there, eyes not quite meeting yours as he waits for you to open it. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo the drawstrings and peer inside, finding a mixture of different seeds. You can’t help but trail your fingers through them, feeling the faint warmth they hold from where they were nestled against Logan’s body.

“Oh, Logan,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

You glance up at him and he’s looking at you, scratching at his beard, the faintest hint of blush staining his cheeks. “They’re wildflowers. Don’t know what kind. But, I dunno. I thought you could use them for your garden.”

Your chest tightens as you pull the strings close and tuck the bag in your pocket. “I love them, Logan,” you say, offering him a smile. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you see the tension in his shoulders relax just a bit as he exhales. “Just seemed like something you’d appreciate,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you.

Something has shifted between you and you find yourself itching to touch him, but you don’t. Not yet. The thread holding you two together is there, but thin, and you don’t want it to fray. “I really do appreciate it,” you say softly, stepping just the tiniest bit closer.

Logan nods and his mouth tugs into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. “Okay. Good.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns and jogs down the steps.

“Guess I’ll see you around then,” you call after him, a smile spreading across your face.

He glances back over his shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you will.”

And maybe, just maybe, the walls around him are beginning to crumble.

+++

Sweat beads across your brow as you work, but you pay it no heed. Your attention keeps slipping to Logan as you pry another nail loose from the rotted board. You’ve fallen into an odd relationship with the elusive man whose property line you share, yet you still barely know anything about him.

It’s been a week since he stopped by and gave you those wildflower seeds. A warmth still spreads in your chest when you think about it. And true to his promise, you do see him around, albeit not as much as you’d like. He seems wary, as if his gift opened up a part of himself he wasn’t ready for you to see.

But at least he doesn’t drop off your clean dishes and run anymore.

As you pry the last nail free, the rotten board comes free and you toss it down onto the grass along with the others. Thankfully, the porch isn’t terribly large and you figure another hour or so to remove the remaining boards before you can start laying down fresh lumber.

The crunch of gravel pulls you from your work and you look up to find Logan walking down the path, a large leather bag in his hand. You look up at him, wiping the sweat off your brow and lean back onto your heels, trying your best not to stare at his forearms.

“Oh, hey, Logan,” you say, wiping your hands against your jeans as you stand. “What brings you to my side of the woods?”

He actually smiles at you and nods towards the porch. “Need help?”

You hate the little flutter you feel pressing against your ribs. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, it’s good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You blink, caught off guard by his directness. “Oh, well, if you insist,” you say, trying to calm your nerves. “It would be nice to have a second set of hands.”

He sets the leather bag down on the porch with a thud and you catch a glimpse of the tools nestled inside. Logan notices you looking and comments, “I know a few things.” His smirk makes your legs feel like jello.

“Oh, I bet you know a lot of things,” you blurt, and your eyes widen at the double entendre of your words, heat flushing across your face.

Logan laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Well, it’s always good to be well educated,” he says with a wink.

Fuck, you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust.

Shoving down your raging embarrassment, you lay out your plan to fix the porch and Logan gives a small nod. He starts at the opposite end, prying loose the first board with ease. You try not to stare at the way his muscles move and how his skin begins to slick with the first beads of sweat. You work in silence for a while, the only sounds those of the forest around you.

“So, what actually brought you out here?” Logan finally asks.

You glance over at him and watch as he tosses another board onto the grass. He looks at you expectantly and you sigh. “I got divorced,” you answer honestly. “And I needed something pour my energy into other than wondering where the fuck I went wrong.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your openness leaving you feeling raw, and instead focus on the board in front of you. Anger begins to simmer in your veins at the thought of the last couple of years and you grab the next plank with just enough force to wedge a splinter deep into your palm. A loud curse falls from your lips as you drop the board.

You feel Logan next to you and you suck in a deep breath as he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. “Lemme see,” he says, pulling you close and you can smell the earthiness of him, like damp soil and campfire smoke. You find yourself staring at him, his proximity intoxicating, as you drink in his long lashes and the slope of his nose.

He tilts your palm towards himself, his fingers pressing gently yet with firm enough pressure to push the splinter out of your skin. Pulling it out the rest of the way, his eyes flick up to yours. “Somehow I don’t think you’re the one that fucked up, sweetheart.” His voice is warm and you want to melt into him.

“Well,” you start, clearing your throat, “I certainly wasn’t fucking his mistresses.”

Something in his eyes darkens and a shiver runs down your spine. “He’s a fool for losin’ you,” he growls, and his words hit you with more force than you’d care to admit.

His hand still lingers on yours, steady and reassuring and warm and for a moment you think he might lean closer. You desperately want him to. To press his mouth against yours, to feel his breath against your skin, to have his taste against your tongue. But he pulls back, his expression one of thin control, but you can see the storm behind his gaze.

“A damn fool,” he mutters under his breath and you can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about himself or your ex.

Logan lets your hand go, turning back towards the porch and you mourn the loss, your skin still tingling from the contact. You swallow hard, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. It’s Logan—quiet, gruff Logan, who never really sticks around for a real conversation and yet here he is, offering help and showing that maybe he’s not entirely as unaffected by you as you thought.

Your heartbeat drums in your ears as you watch him go back to work, prying up the next board, his muscles flexing beneath his worn shirt. His jaw clenches and there’s a focused determination in his movements and you can’t tell if he’s working out some anger or trying to keep himself in check.

You work in silence for several more minutes, the only sounds being the prying of loose boards and creaking lumber. There’s a tension between you now, more so than there was before, something palpable.

It’s enough to drive you mad.

“What about you?” you finally ask, your voice somewhat hesitant. “You don’t talk about yourself much.”

Logan glances at you from the corner of his eye and his brow furrows, as if he’s weighing whether or not to answer. “Not much to tell,” he grunts, pulling up another board with more force than necessary.

“Somehow, I doubt that. You don’t just wake up one day alone in the woods with forearms like that.”

Logan looks over at you and smirks. “Maybe I’m just really good with my hands.” His voice dips low and you can’t help the warmth that pools low in your belly at his words.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, no…yep. I’m starting to figure that out.”

He’s silent for a few moments as he goes back to work and the air between you hums with something charged. “You really want to know?” he asks, his voice rough. “I’ve been around for too long, longer than anyone should. Done things I’m not proud of.” He tosses another plank aside and all you can do it watch him. “I’ve…I’ve hurt people I care about. People I’ve cared about have hurt me. I’m not really sure I belong anywhere, so I just…drift.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something broken and vulnerable, and it catches you off guard. For all his outward strength, there’s man deep down inside who’s lost, and your heart aches for him.

“You belong here,” you say softly.

He doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension shift as the weight of your words settle between you. Another board gets tossed aside. “Yeah, maybe.”

He finally raises his gaze to yours and for a moment the world quiets—the forest, the porch, all of it—as his eyes lock onto yours and his expression softens. You offer him a warm smile and then return back to the porch, hesitant to push him any further.

You work comfortably together after that. The old boards removed, Logan helps you place and nail down the new ones. Your conversation is limited to the project, but you don’t mind.

As Logan packs up his tools, you glance over at him. “Thank you.”

A half smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome,” comes his reply as he steps off the porch and heads down the path back towards his cabin.

“Logan!” you call, lightly jogging after him before he slips out of view. He pauses and turns back towards you. “Can I make you dinner?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you already been doin’ that?”

“No,” you say shaking your head, “I mean, yes, I have, but like a proper dinner? Fresh from kitchen to table. I can come by you, if you’d like.”

Logan studies you for a moment, his gaze intense and you can feel your heart beating against your ribs. He’s silent for so long you wonder if you’ve overstepped and you open your mouth to speak when he says, “Alright. Come by tomorrow, six o’clock.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “Tomorrow it is.”

+++

You’re up before the sun, your nerves a tangle of raw edges. You lay there, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into.

You weren’t expecting to meet someone out here in the woods. You were hoping for tranquility, a distraction to quiet the voice in your head that kept nagging you for how your life veered off course. That maybe if you worked more, did more, loved more you wouldn’t be a thirty year old divorcee.

Instead, you find a mysterious man who sparks within you a flame you long thought extinguished. A ruggedly handsome man who’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has you wondering if maybe he can’t help mend the pieces of your broken heart.

Except you don’t know if that same spark is ignited within him and if his gesture of dinner is simple kindness. A response to the kindness you’ve shown him over the last two months or if he’s feeling that same attraction you do.

God, you hope he does.

You spend the morning cleaning, trying to pour your nervous energy into something productive other than worrying about what the evening may bring. Driving into town, you agonize over what to make even though he’s been eating what you’ve made without complaint for weeks now. You opt to keep it simple—pasta with homemade meat sauce, a nice loaf of bread and a couple bottles of wine.

While the sauce is simmering on the stove you get ready. You dress for comfort, a simple pair of leggings and a flowy top that hangs slightly off your shoulders. You catch your reflection in the mirror and give yourself a silent nod of encouragement. Despite this just being dinner, the night brims with the possibility of maybe something more.

Once the food is prepared, you carefully pack everything in a large basket and begin the walk to Logan’s cabin. The night is cool, but still holds the warmth of day and the promise of summer to come. You feel your anticipation heighten the closer you get to his place and your stomach drops when you see it appear up ahead.

It’s just Logan, you remind yourself.

Stepping up onto his porch, you give a hesitant knock at the door. He greets you almost instantly and you suck in a deep breath. Logan looks good and your heart does a flip as you take him in—well fitting jeans, a clean white shirt underneath a soft red flannel button down, his hair is still slightly damp from a shower.

“You’re early,” he comments, standing aside to let you in. You catch the slight frown tug at his mouth as he notices the basket. “You coulda cooked here, you know.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know if you’d want me invading your space,” you reply, following him deeper into the cabin and setting the basket down on the counter.

Logan turns back towards you, bracing his hands against the counter. “I don’t mind you in my space.”

His words hang in the air between you and you can feel your pulse quicken. You glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you—steady and unflinching—sends a thrill down your spine.

You clear your throat, trying to settle the nerves in your chest. “Next time then,” you say lightly, hoping he can’t hear the slight waver in your voice.

Logan’s lips quirk into a half smile. “Next time,” he agrees.

He reaches into a cabinet above him, pulling down a couple of plates and glasses, setting a small table in the corner of the small kitchen. You keep yourself busy unpacking the food, arranging the bread, pasta and sauce on the table, working around him as he uncorks the wine and pours both of you a glass.

Logan joins you then, raising his glass and clinking it gently against yours. He nods in a silent cheers and tips his head back as he drinks, his eyes never leaving yours. You can’t suppress the shiver that shoots down your spine.

Setting down his glass, he serves you and then himself, commenting, “This smells amazing.”

“Family recipe,” you reply, taking another sip wine. “Remind me to make it for you when I have fresh tomatoes. It’s even better then.”

“I’ll have to do that,” he says with a smile.

Conversation starts off slow, but not awkward, as you both test the limits of what you’re wiling to share. Logan’s answers are often short, reserved, but what he does reveal helps bring into focus the outline of the man before you. An outline you’re hoping he’ll let you fill in.

“George says you’re a mutant,” you start slowly and you don’t miss the way his posture stiffens, his fork scraping harshly against the plate.

He goes still and you wonder if you fucked up. Crossed a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes flick up to yours and he lets out a small hum. “He did, did he?”

You nod, chewing. “It doesn’t bother me.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “It bothers most people.”

“I’m not most people,” you reply, your voice soft.

Something in his face softens then, the furrow of his brow a little less pronounced. A slight smile plays at his lips. “No. No you’re not.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest and your face flushes. Taking another bite, you ask, “Can I see?”

Logan studies you for a moment and you can see him deciding whether or not to show you that part of him he’d rather keep hidden. He sets the silverware down and he flexes his fingers before resting his palms back on the table. Then, he unsheathes his claws and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips.

You see him flinch at your reaction and he goes to retract his claws and you reach for him. “Don’t,” you say, your fingers hovering just above the blades.

As he relaxes, you gently rest your fingertips against the metal, finding it surprisingly cool but still holding a faint warmth from his body. His eyes drop to where you’re touching him as you slowly begin to trace each blade with your fingers, following the slight curve down to where they emerge from his skin. You look up at him, finding his gaze fixed on you and you shiver under the intensity.

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. You feel him shudder beneath you as he retracts his claws, leaving your fingertips nestled against the skin between his knuckles.

You pull your hand away from his, mourning the loss of his skin against yours. Logan clears his throat and pulls his hands into his lap, glancing down at them as if they’re foreign, something he’s never taken the time to notice before. He flexes his fingers once more before dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Do they hurt?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Thank you for showing me.”

Logan studies you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s trying to figure you out. You know he’s probably not used to this, someone seeing him as something other than a mutant, an aberration, someone who should be hidden away. Then, his face softens.

“People don’t usually ask,” he says quietly.

You smile gently, feeling that flame inside you burn just a bit brighter. “I just want to know you.”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze still steady, but more open, as if some of those invisible walls he surrounds himself with have started to come down. If only just enough to let the light shine through.

An unspoken tension simmers, thickening the air, and you know he can feel it too, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s heavy with promise. You turn your attention back to your plate and for a few moments, neither of you speak.

“So,” you say after a beat, “Do you ever use them as forks?”

Logan huffs out a laugh, the sound surprising you and his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement. “I can’t say that I have,” he replies with a smile.

You grin. “You should give it a try.”

“If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

The rest of dinner passes with easy conversation and you feel your nerves begin to settle, just a bit. Logan seems less guarded too, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him.

You help him clear the table, ignoring his request that you just sit and relax. As you stand next to him, emptying the leftovers into a container, you feel his eyes on you. When you hand him the container, your fingers brush again, but this time he doesn’t immediately pull away. His fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary and your breath catches in your throat.

“Thanks for dinner, he says quietly, voice low. “And for…understanding.”

You nod, feeling that unmistakable pull between you, the tug that’s kept you orbiting closer and closer to him. “Anytime, Logan,” you answer softly. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s been burned before and is still figuring out if he can trust what you’re offering him. And you understand his turmoil, trust having shattered your heart into pieces, pieces you’re still trying to pick up and reshape.

Logan steps a little bit closer then and before you can say anything else, his hand gently reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is simple but intimate and it sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling lowly in your belly.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let me walk you home.”

He grabs your basket before you can protest and you follow him out into the night. There’s a full moon hanging heavy in the sky, illuminating the path in front of you, yet you remain close to Logan. You curse to yourself as you trip over an exposed root and then you feel Logan reach out for you, his fingers wrapping securely around your own. The heat of his palm against yours is almost overwhelming.

Your cabin comes into view and Logan slows, his fingers slipping from your grasp as he sets the basket down on the porch.

“Good night, Logan,” you say softly as you walk up the steps.

As you turn from him, he reaches for your wrist, his fingers curling and pressing hotly against your skin. Your breath hitches as he climbs the steps to join you on the porch, and your gasps dies in your throat as he tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his gaze.

“Do I make you nervous?” His voice is low, breath hot and damp against your skin.

“Yes,” you breathe, somehow inching closer to him, your fingers reaching for the hem of his flannel and twisting into the fabric.

“Why?” He brushes his nose against yours and you chase after the touch.

Swallowing hard, you look up at him from under your lashes. You tilt further into him, your mouth hovering just over his. “Because I haven’t felt like this in a very long time and I don’t want it to go away.” Don’t want you to go away.

Logan nods and whispers, “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” And then he presses his mouth to yours.

It’s soft, barely a hint of skin against skin, but when you whisper, “Please,” against his lips, Logan growls and then he’s everywhere. His kiss claims you, his tongue licking in your mouth and you whimper as his fingers curl along the nape of your neck somehow pulling you impossibly closer.

You wind your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the short strands at the back of his head. Your entire world is focused down to the feel of his lips on yours and the press of his fingers against your jaw as he pulls you towards his hungry mouth.

Logan’s grip on you tightens, one hand splayed across your lower back and the other pressed firmly between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him. The heat between you is palpable, each movement of his lips setting you further aflame. You lose track of time, lost in the sensation of his beard scraping against your skin, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless and his forehead rests against yours, your shared breaths mingling in the space between you. His eyes are dark and intense as they search your face and you feel untethered, Logan being the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough, but surprisingly tender as his thumb traces along the line of your jaw.

You nod, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Good.” He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your cheek, his hand lingering at the side of your face. He presses one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he steps back and walks down the path back home.

+++

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss—Logan’s lips against yours, the taste of his tongue, the press of his hands against your skin, hot and heavy, yet gentle.

You want to live in that moment forever. Want to know only his kisses for the rest of your life, for him to be the first person you kiss good morning and the last person you kiss goodnight. For him to kiss you just because he can, because he misses you, because he can’t get the feel of your mouth out of his mind and he needs to feel you again pressing against him.

You also want to run away, hide yourself from these emotions that are overwhelming you and leaving you feeling raw and exposed and absolutely terrified. You haven’t kissed another man in two years and he broke your heart, leaving nothing but shattered pieces and dust in his wake. Dust that still clings to you despite your best efforts to sweep it up. Those pieces of your heart are still sharp, jagged where they should be smooth.

You’ve always been trusting, choosing to see the light in others as opposed the darkness. Believing deep down that everyone deserves kindness, deserves a second chance, that one bad deed does not a bad person make. But he stole a part of that from you and you hate him for it. Hate that even now, after all this time, he’s able to worm his way into your brain and make you question the motives of the man who’s made you feel more alive than you have in months.

Last night you felt unshackled, unbound by the fear that had chained you for so long. You felt as if Logan’s very touch, his presence, had set your soul on fire and instead of fearing the burn, you were ready to embrace the warmth.

But now, raw contempt begins to simmer in your veins and you need something to pour your frustration into before it threatens to consume you whole.

Throwing your hair up into a messy bun and throwing on a paint-stained shirt and ripped jeans, you head outside looking for a project to sink fingers into. In the small shed behind the cabin, you find a few gardening supplies—a small shovel, trowel, bow rake—and you drag them out and to the overgrown flower beds.

You don’t even bother with the tools at first, ripping at the dead growth with your bare hands, pulling it from the earth in great clumps and tossing it aside. Your pulse beats loudly in your ears as you move from bed to bed, clawing away the old growth, your breathing growing ragged and your palms staining with dirt.

Grabbing the rake, you dig at the remaining plants, tearing at the roots, destroying the new growth. Tears run hotly down your face, blurring your vision and your throat aches from force of your breathing and screams you’ve been holding back.

From behind you, you hear the sound of your name and you whip around so quickly, the rake goes flying from your hands. You can hear the snikt of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe and the splintering of wood as he deflects the rake flying at him. It clatters to the ground between you as he retracts his claws and looks at you, his brow furrowed in concern.

You wonder, then, exactly what you look like in that moment. Dirt caked on your hands and under your fingernails, cheeks flushed with exertion, hair a halo of disarray. The pure adrenaline you’d been running on wanes and your limbs suddenly feel heavy and you sink to the ground in front of him. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, because you’re afraid of what you’ll see.

Logan approaches you slowly, kneeling down in front of you and gently raising your chin to look up at him. The stark worry etched on his face makes you ache and fresh tears burn in your eyes. You wipe at your eyes, which only serves to smear dirt across your face.

“I’m terrified, Logan,” you whisper, wanting to reach for him, but afraid to touch him. “I terrified of how much I like you.”

“You scare me too,” he confesses softly and your heart breaks.

He leans closer, fingers resting hesitantly against your knees. You reach for him too, grabbing on to the open sides of his jacket and pulling him to you. Logan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push back and instead envelopes you into his arms, your head resting against the solid warmth of his chest.

Safe in his arms, you cry. Harsh, broken sobs as he rubs your back, the soft caress of his fingers along your spine anchoring you to him as he holds you. He murmurs into your hair that he’s got you, to let it all out, and you do.

Eventually, you calm and sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest, loathe to move just yet. “I’m broken, Logan,” you mumble into his shirt. You look up at him then, the softness and concern on his face making you physically ache. “I still have broken pieces where I should be whole.”

Slowly, tentatively, he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. His thumbs brush at the dirt and tears under your eyes and he smoothes the hair away from your forehead. “Maybe some of my pieces fit,” he says, voice low, but steady.

His words send a flood of emotion through you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Then the gravity of what he’s saying hits you—he’s offering you himself, all his jagged and scarred pieces, the pieces no one else sees.

The pieces he wants you to see.

You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. His sigh is hot against your cheek, but he doesn’t press further.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin and somehow it feels like the most important thing you’ve ever said.

“C’mon,” he says, “Let me help you get this cleaned up.”

You nod, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. Logan stands, offering you his hand. You take it, your fingers slipping into his and his grip is steady, yet gentle as he helps you up.

Without a word, Logan grabs the broken rake and begins removing the debris from the beds you laid waste to. You watch him work for a moment before joining in, pulling the weeds from the beds you hadn’t gotten to yet. Every now and then your eyes meet, but you don’t say anything. You don’t feel the need to fill the space with words, his presence beside you speaking volumes more than he could ever say.

After a while, Logan pauses and looks over at you, wiping the dirt from his hands into his jeans. “You still got those seeds I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Go get ‘em,” he says nodding towards the cabin. “We’ll plant something new.”

You retrieve the small pouch where you’ve kept it safe and come out to find Logan kneeling in the dirt, his fingers making small pockets of earth to house the new flowers. He looks up at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You join him on the ground, dropping a few seeds in each well as he moves to create the next one.

“I’m not very good at this,” Logan starts, covering the last well with dirt, “but I promise I won’t break you. You don’t gotta be scared of me.”

He looks at you then, his hazel eyes meeting yours and you reach for his hand, your thumb brushing across his dirt stained knuckles.

“No,” you reply with a smile, “I don’t think I do.”

+++

It’s been three days since that moment with Logan in the garden and the air between you has been quiet. Logan hasn’t come by the cabin, but you hadn’t sought him out either. You weren’t avoiding him, exactly. More a need for space, a chance to process the feelings you felt for him, to test if you were truly ready to open yourself up to him.

Your mind never strays far from him, though. An almost constant loop plays in your brain of the way he held you, the way he spoke, the quiet promise he made not to break you. There’s a large part of you that believes him; your heart is screaming at you shed your lingering doubt and trust him, but your rational brain is grasping desperately to the kernel of truth that vows can be broken.

So you turn to what you do best—pour your energy into other things. The cabin is spotless now, cleaned of disuse and age, turned into a cozy place of retreat, a simple shelter turned into a home. And yet…

You’re sitting on the porch, watching the sun dip lower in the sky, the book you’d been trying to read long forgotten. The forest is peaceful, alive with the sounds of early summer. But as calming as it is, you can’t ignore the ache in your chest—you miss him. More than you thought possible.

Just as you’re about to stand, the sound of boots against gravel catches your attention. You look up and there he is—Logan. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jacket as he walks up the path. His look is cautious, as if he’s unsure whether or not you’ll accept his presence.

Your heart skips a beat and you stand, wiping your palms against your jeans as he draws closer. His hazel eyes meet yours and there’s something softer about him, something open.

He stops a few feet away from you, gaze steady. “I wasn’t sure if I should come by.” His voice is still gruff, but quieter than usual. “If you needed space or not.”

“I did, need space. But not from you,” you clarify. You take a hesitant step towards him. “I missed you.”

Logan sighs then, his posture relaxing just slightly. “I wanted so badly to see you. I didn’t know if I should stay away.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you step down from the porch, closing the distance between you. You stand in front of him, noticing the faint lines of tension around his mouth, the way his jaw is clenched as if bracing himself for your rejection.

“Don’t stay away,” you say softly, “I want you here.”

You reach for him, your fingers brushing against his hands as you pull them from his pockets. Logan doesn’t pull away and the warmth of his skin against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. You feel it then, that familiar pull—the one that’s been there since the beginning, drawing you closer and closer into his orbit, his sun.

You brush your thumbs across his knuckles and look up at him. “You wanna come inside?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll make you something to eat?”

Logan nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you lead him inside, something in the air between you shifts, something subtle. But you know one thing for certain—you’re not afraid anymore. Not of this.

+++

The sun has set, the food long gone and as Logan’s hand reaches for the front door, you slip in front of him. His scent overwhelms you, that earthy dampness you’ve come to associate with him flooding your senses.

“What if you stayed?” you ask, the slight waver in your voice betraying your boldness.

You watch as his eyes darken and he leans even further into your space. “Do you know what you’re asking, sweetheart?” he replies, eyes searching your face.

Swallowing, you nod. “I do,” you whisper.

Then you slide your arms around his waist, pulling him closer as you lean in and kiss the hollow of his throat. You can feel him swallow hard beneath your lips and you smirk into his skin as you drag your mouth higher, over the long column of his neck to nip at the corner of his jaw.

“Stay,” you murmur in his ear.

Logan turns, his nose brushing against your cheek as he seeks your mouth and you inhale deeply as his lips find yours. His fingers wind themselves into your hair, resting against the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer. You whimper into his mouth when he pulls back, eyes blown black.

“Show me where,” he says, his voice low.

You lead him up the stairs, his hand warm in yours and you barely make it to the top before Logan’s spinning you around, mouth finding yours. His is kiss is demanding, so different from that first one all those nights ago. This is urgent and desperate, like he can’t possibly get you close enough to satisfy the need deep within him. And you feel it too, pouring yourself back equally into the kiss, moaning as his tongue finally slips alongside yours.

Your fingers fumble along the top of his jeans, pulling his shirt from where it’s tucked and sliding your hands up along the sides of his ribs. He rewards you with a deep groan of his own, nipping slightly at your bottom lip.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he rumbles against your lips, kissing you once, twice, “I’ve been dyin’ to feel your hands on me.”

“Me, too,” you reply, gasping as his hands find the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to brush his fingers hotly along your skin.

Logan pulls back just enough to look down at your face, his fingers still clutching the fabric of your shirt, but lifting it just a bit higher. His gaze is questioning, asking for silent permission to continue. You nod once and he slowly drags the shirt up, his fingers skimming along your sides, over the swells of your breasts as he pulls the shirt over your head.

Despite the heat coursing through your veins, you shiver under the intensity of his stare. He kisses you again, inhaling deeply, before moving down, nipping over your chin, your throat, in between your breasts.

Logan’s hands follow his mouth, running a trail from your shoulders, down long your spine, easily flicking open the clasp of your bra on the way. He glances up at you as he moves to pull the straps aside, dragging them down your arms.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs fanning out across your nipples.

A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine and pools low in your belly. You feel like you might spontaneously catch on fire and he’s barely touched you. You can’t remember ever feeling like this when a man has touched you, so consumed by want and need.

His fingers trail lower, brushing along the top of your jeans, popping open the button. You grab for his hand, stopping him. You see the concern flicker across his face and you smile. “Your turn,” you say, sliding your palms up his chest and pushing the flannel from his shoulders, his shirt following suit.

You revel in his muscular physique, your fingers tracing along his collarbones, down over the broad planes of his chest, feeling the wiry hair beneath your fingertips. His muscles flutter beneath your touch as you follow the trail of hair lower, down to the vee between his hips.

Logan’s arousal is evident by the tenting of his jeans, and your eyes locked on his, you dip lower, giving the faintest of caresses over the fabric.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses. “Take your pants off.”

It’s a command, not an ask, and one you’re more than willing to comply with.

Nervous energy licks at your skin as your fingers tuck into the waistband of your jeans and pull them down. Logan follows your lead, unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans over his hips, kicking them aside. His cock juts out proudly, thick and heavy, nestled in a bed of hair.

Logan’s on you before you can kick away the last leg, hoisting you up under your thighs and forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips. His palms are hot against your ass and you can feel his cock trapped between you.

He moves you both to the bed, setting you down before crawling over you and slotting himself between your thighs. Leaning back on his heels, he stares down at you, skin flushed. He kisses you softly once, before dragging a single finger down the center of your chest, hooking it into the waistband of your panties.

“What do you like?” he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You stare at him, unable to comprehend his question as he slides his finger back and forth across your skin. Electric sparks of anticipation crawl up your spine and you can feel the rapid flutter of your heart against your ribs.

“You want me to touch you with my fingers?” His voice is low, so low and you shiver.

Your mouth has gone dry and you can only nod.

“You want me to touch you with my mouth?” Logan leans down, skimming his lips across your collarbone, nipping lightly.

Your fingers stutter across his shoulders and wind themselves into his hair. Logan’s smirk presses into the corner of your jaw. “Want me to touch you with both?”

“Please,” you whine into his neck, breath hot against his skin.

Logan trails back down your body, kisses peppering over your neck, both breasts, your belly before he presses a kiss to the top of your clothed mound. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and looks up at you, asking for permission. At your nod, he pulls he material down, eyes never leaving yours as he trails his fingers down your legs and tosses the fabric aside.

You’re fully bare, exposed in a way you haven’t been in a long time and your nerves blush across your skin. Instinctively, you try to close your legs, but he stops you, his hot palms curling against your thighs.

“You don’t gotta hide from me,” Logan says, kissing your knee and spreading your legs further apart. “You’re so pretty like this. Flushed and wet and smelling so sweet for me.”

A jolt of desire zips down your spine. Nothing could have prepared you for the filthiness of words that would spill from his mouth. Or how much you’d enjoy hearing them.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” you murmur.

“That’s not possible.”

“Other men have—“

Your words die in your throat as Logan grips your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face. His expression is soft, but his eyes flash with a glint of something dark. “When I fuck you, I’ll be the only man in your bed, understand?”

The roughness and edge in his voice makes you shiver and heat pools between your thighs. You swallow heavily and nod.

“I want this,” he says, his tone softer. “I want you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

Slowly, you reach for his hand and guide his fingers to where you’re wet and aching for him. At the first brush of his fingertips against your folds, you gasp and your fingers dig deeper into his skin.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Logan coos. “I’m gonna make you feel good.”

And then he’s touching you, fingers dragging through your arousal before circling around your clit. He caresses you like he knows you and you’re molten beneath him. One finger, then two slip inside you, pressing against that spot that makes you squirm and grip at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “You weren’t lying.” Logan quirks an eyebrow, fingers still curling within you, his rhythm picking up speed. “You are good with your hands.”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest as he continues to move, this thumb working over your clit. Your hips jolt off the bed when Logan replaces his thumb with his tongue, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth.

He continues to work your cunt, long, flat presses of his tongue against your clit punctuated by the short, sharp thrusts of his fingers. The dual sensation is enough to wind that tension in your core tighter, building you up higher and higher until you feel yourself reaching that inevitable peak.

“Logan, I—I’m so close,” you gasp, fisting your fingers into his hair.

His growl against your cunt is enough to send you over the edge, the vibrations rippling through your body as your orgasm washes over you. Through half lidded eyes, you meet his gaze from between your thighs, his eyes dark with desire and you shiver at the intensity of his stare.

Logan crawls over you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips, bright and sour, as he licks into your mouth.

“Do you trust me?”

Logan’s fingers are still moving against you, wringing out the last of your orgasm and you can only nod. He withdraws his fingers and you whine, but he just smirks and taps your hip.

“Turn over,” he commands lowly.

A shudder ripples through you as you willingly comply, rolling onto your stomach as Logan’s palm trails from your hip over the swell of your ass. His fingers kneed into your flesh and you squeak as he curves them over your skin, pulling you up onto your knees, drawing your hips flush with his. The thick feel of his cock presses into your ass and you can’t help but push back, enjoying the strangled moan that falls from his lips.

“I can’t wait to be nestled deep inside you,” he groans, slotting his cock between your thighs, running the length along your wet cunt.

You peer over your shoulder and smirk at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Logan lines up then and the air punches out of your lungs as he slowly eases himself in to the hilt. He’s deep at this angle and you feel claimed, owned in the best way possible as he begins to move his hips. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite and you’re sure you’ve never experienced pleasure quite like this before.

His fingers dig into the flesh at your hips, grabbing as much as he can to pull you back into him and you push back, meeting him thrust for thrust. His grip is enough to be bruising, teetering that line between pleasure and pain and yet you relish it.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Look so good stretched around my cock.”

Pleasure zips along your spine and curls along your limbs, each drag of his cock against you coiling that band in your belly tighter and tighter. Yet, you need more. You need to feel him, feel his arms around you, on you, feel his mouth hot and open against your skin.

“I need to feel you closer,” you whine. “Please, I—”

Logan’s arm slips underneath you, curling just under your breasts and pulling your back flush to his chest. He holds on, fingertips splaying across your ribcage as he fucks up into you, his breath hot and damp against your ear.

You turn your head just enough to capture his lips, your mouth pressing against his in an open-mouthed kiss. He steals the moan from your throat as his other hand dips to where you’re joined, fingers beginning to circle around your clit.

Slipping a hand into his hair, you hold him to you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. Logan groans when you rake your nails along his scalp and you do it again. Your mixed groans and the wet noises from where he’s thrusting into you fill the room and time seems to stop. There is nothing but the thick feel of him between your legs, the fervent press of his fingers against your clit and the tight grasp of his hand across your breast.

A litany of praise falls from his mouth and his words burn through you, setting you aflame from the inside. It’s too early for thoughts of love and forever, but you can feel something real, something undeniable pulling you together, uniting you in a way more than just physical. You’re bound to him.

Logan’s hand slides up your sternum, his fingers coming to cup your jaw, pulling your focus back to him. The pad of his thumb pulls at your lower lip. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he husks into your ear. “I wanna hear those pretty sounds you make.”

And you do, two more forceful thrusts sending you teetering over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. Logan doesn’t stop, fucking you through wave after wave, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chases his own release.

“Let me feel you, Logan,” you pant, your breath coming out in short gasps. “Please.”

With a deep groan into your shoulder he comes, his cock spasming deep within you, painting your womb with his seed. His arm around your hips holds you firmly in place as he uses your body to wring out the last of his pleasure, shallowly thrusting as your walls caress him. When he finally stills, breath hot against your skin, you can feel your combined come slick against your thighs.

You don’t know how long he holds you like that, back to chest, keeping you in his arms simply because he can.

Only later, when the sweat begins to cool on your skin and your flesh pebbles, does Logan lay you down, finally slipping from within you. He pulls you close and you rest your head against his chest, the comforting lull of his heartbeat echoing in your ear.

You lightly trace your fingertips over the crest of his hipbone just to feel him beneath you. His breathing evens out, approaching that blissful edge of sleep when you glance up at him. Logan opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours and he smiles.

“Logan?”

His hum vibrates through his chest.

“I think we’re healing each other.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answers, “I think we are.”

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #origins wolverine #origins logan howlett #the wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader

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silverskyeline · 1 month ago

Text

ੈ♡˳ strangers - 18+ origins!logan x f!reader

summary: the stranger in the leather jacket at the bar wants you as much as you want him. (800 words) tags: sex in a back alley, sort of exhibitionism, filthy, doggy style, rough, reader and logan are strangers, quick fling, creampie, logan says 'atta girl & good girl', for the 'leather jacket' prompt for logan promptober, divider by @/rookthornesartistry

the stranger with the leather jacket had eye fucked you from across the bar practically all night, so it was no surprise to you or him when you found yourself bent over taking his cock like a good girl in the alley nestled behind it.

he's still wearing that fucking jacket, you can hear the creak of the leather with every thrust, his hand planted firmly on your shoulder as he pumps into your tight, hot cunt.

and you love it.

you love the rushed intensity of it all, the way your underwear sits pretty at your knees with your skirt hiked up around your hips, his large hands grabbing a fistful of the material to keep it there. his jeans are inched down just enough to take you, hard and fast. there's no time to remove layers, just a raw primal need for him to bury his cock deep inside you.

he'd check for passersby, if he cared. which he doesn't.

no, he'd actually kind of like it if someone saw, the thrill of being caught causing your own thighs to twitch. you steady yourself with your hands planted on the wet brick in front of you, glistening in the moonlight, mirroring the slick that's trailing down between your thighs as he thrusts in and out.

"that's it," logan growls, "fuckin' take it. . ."

you moan louder in response, that firm commanding voice of his paired with an almost animalistic snarl has you seeing stars. you're not sure you've ever been fucked like this, but it's like he knows what you want without asking.

"and you're gonna take my cum too, huh? like a good girl?" you can hear the grin in his voice as your head drops a little, gasping for air, "gonna take it nice and deep so you can think about me as it leaks out on your little walk home. . ."

fuck. you can hardly think, you're spasming around him and clenching and arching your back, your body on autopilot as it takes what it's given.

he's growling with each thrust, growing rougher, more intent on chasing his own need. you'll cum soon anyway, it's not like he has to worry about that when you were already close within seconds of his thick dick stretching your velvet heat. he made sure you were ready though, but his fingers are no match for how good his cock feels.

you're moaning incoherently about how you're going to cum soon, you don't even recognise yourself with the whines that escape your lips. you've never been this needy, this desperate, especially not for a stranger in the back alley behind a bar.

it's not long until you're tipping over that sweet edge, thighs shaking with the intensity of the orgasm he's so graciously giving you. you cover your mouth to at least half muffle the lewd sounds spilling from your lips, but it's pointless when the slap of his hips connecting with yours over and over is as deafening as it is, echoing out into the open space around you.

"tryin' to be quiet? that's cute," he huffs, his hand on your shoulder ripping your hand from your mouth and pinning it behind your back, driving into you harder, "let them hear you, let them hear how good you're bein' for me, how hard you're cumming on this cock. . ."

he's growing breathless, his imminent release causing his thrusts to falter. he's gonna cum, and he knows he should pull out, make a pretty little painting on your back - but that's not what he wants, it's not what you want either.

because as much as you would never admit it, you want to feel it. you want to feel his cum deep inside of you, a piece of him to take with you - it's not like you even have his name.

when he cums, the sensation causes you to gasp, feeling him fill you with ropes and ropes of it, white and hot. each thrust is now deep, calculated, slow and harsh. "take it all," he mumbles under his breath, "atta' girl. . ."

he gives you a few pats to your backside before he pulls out, stuffing himself in his jeans and grabbing your chin, turning you to face him in a dizzying spin. logan smirks against your lips at your dazed expression before capturing you in a languid, passionate kiss.

after what feels like forever, with your panties still around your knees and his release dripping down your inner thighs, he pulls back. "thanks for that, doll." he grins before taking a step back, "maybe i'll see you around."

and just as quickly as he came into your life, the stranger is gone, leaving you with the clinking sound of metal as he buckles his belt and disappears out of the alley.

you pant softly, left fucked out behind a bar that you know you'll return to every night with a growing hunger between your legs, praying you'll lock eyes with the man in the leather jacket even just once more.

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animasola86 · 21 days ago

Text

🐺 A KNOT TO REMEMBER

m!werewolf x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.6k

In search of some fresh air, you stumble through a beautifully arranged garden. The full moon shows the path, or so you think, until you find yourself face-to-face with something very large and very hairy.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Werewolves! Abduction! Dubcon? Knotting! Breeding! Cum inflation! Fluff? (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part 4 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7 This is OPTION 3 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene.

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your search for the bathroom, you come to a long hallway full of doors, and you decide to go through the door at the end of it, thinking some fresh air would be preferable now.

When you walk through the door, a cold breeze passes by you, making you rub your exposed arms. It's been a mild October thus far, so you didn't bring a jacket. All you have is the red cape that gives your costume its name. Pulling it around your shoulders, you follow the short hallway to another set of doors that lead you straight outside. The fresh air is numbing, but also strangely clearing, and the deeper you inhale, the steadier you feel.

The full moon stands high in the sky, illuminating a beautiful garden before you. You see rows of neatly trimmed hedges, large flower pots and other intricately laid out plant arrangements fit for the season, broken up by either a bench or a little lamp casting additional light into the dark night, with a narrow gravel path snaking through the vast grounds.

You decide to walk off the strange feeling in your guts. With your hood over your head, you quickly feel warmer again. The low thump of the music from the house quiets down with every step you take away from it, deeper into the garden. Soon you find yourself in the middle of a maze, with hedges too high to look over, and paths just wide enough to walk through comfortably. A sinking feeling grips you as you keep walking, but everything looks the same.

Quickening your steps, you feel your heart beating harder in your chest. Good idea to walk through a maze in the freaking dark, you scold yourself, but before you can think of a clever retort, you suddenly hear a strange howling noise, seemingly far away, probably past the forest surrounding the house. It still makes your blood run cold. You stop in your tracks, listening hard, but all you can hear is your own rapid heartbeat and the gentle swish of the wind through the leaves around you, there are no animal sounds, no owls hooting, no insects chirping, no critters running about.

Just eerie silence – until another howl cuts through the night, making you gasp. This time it's much closer, louder, and without even thinking, you turn around, trying to run back to the house, knowing you shouldn't be out here in the first place. Your flight instinct is cut short when you run blindly into... something. Something solid, big, warm...

Stumbling back, you look up with wide eyes, panting heavily, and when you see what you ran into, you freeze, holding your breath, shock settling into your limbs. It's a wolf. As tall as a man. Wait, it is a man, he's standing on his hind legs, but he's got the head of a wolf, with a long snout, sharp eyes and teeth, fluffy ears and all a wolf would have, but below his wide shoulders he may just be a very hairy man, muscular, bulky even, despite the rough looking dark fur covering every inch of his massive body, very intimidating, and he also has a long bushy tail swishing lazily behind him. When he speaks, which surprises you, his voice rumbles through the air like thunder.

“Are you lost, little girl?” he asks, tilting his large head.

You stare up at him with your lips parted, too dumbstruck to process anything. “I... uh... yeah,” you mumble, eyes scanning the large figure in front of you frantically. He really is very hairy, hairy enough he doesn't even need clothes you notice. “I think... I mean... the house is right there, isn't it?”

The wolf man turns around before a low chuckle escapes him. “Not quite. You went a little too far, didn't you, Little Red?”

You blink at the nickname, but then remember your costume – and your initial disappointment that there hasn't been any wolf at the party to match your freak. Well, now you've found him, or he you. And his costume is impressive. Might just be one of those fur suits, one of the more realistic looking ones, because the way he stares down at you almost feels a little too realistic. It's not a mask, is it? But it probably is, it has to be. The alternative would mean he is a real werewolf, and you know that those things don't exist.

Right?

Swallowing hard, you take a cautious step backwards. He moves with you, his imposing body getting closer again, threateningly. You let out a scared little whimper.

“Oh, don't be afraid, little one. I won't hurt you. Not too much anyway,” he adds with a low growl that might have been a laugh. You don't feel like laughing back.

“A-are you –” you stammer, your shoulders shaking with how frantic your chest rises and falls. “A... a... you know... a werewolf?”

He tilts his head again, putting his large hands (paws?) onto his hairy hips as he watches you curiously. “What do you think?” he rumbles, licking his long tongue around his muzzle, showing off razor sharp teeth that gleam in the moonlight. Nope. That's not a mask. This is fucking real.

“Oh God!” you cry out, and in your panic you turn around and run, nothing but terror pulsing through your body as you stumble headlessly through the darkness, away from whatever monster you just encountered. In your haste to round another corner of the maze, your cape gets caught by some thorns, ripping right off you, but you keep running, fleeing into the night.

“He won't help you here,” you hear the deep voice behind you, rapid footsteps following you before you feel a rush of air that knocks you right over. Or rather it's the wolf jumping onto your back, crashing you into the hard ground beneath you. You scream in shock, the pain only registering a few seconds later when you feel your knees scraping open and your palms rubbing over rough gravel.

You squirm in desperation, wailing helplessly beneath him. His hot breath hits your nape, and you freeze immediately, stiffening in fear. He sniffs your hair, and then you feel something warm and wet along the side of your neck. He's licking you, coaxing a sorrowful whine out of your throat.

“Shh, it's alright, little one. Don't be scared. No need to run from me. Wouldn't you say we were destined to meet?” His voice vibrates through you as he presses his snout against the side of your head while his large hands rub along your sides, his strong thighs bracketing your hips, his weight pushing you deeper into the ground. “My little Red Riding Hood...” he continues, poking his wet nose against your cheek. “Weren't you looking for your wolf too?”

You can only wail pathetically, too panicked to consider his words. “Please... no...”

He huffs a warm breath against your skin. “Well, it can't be helped. Fate brought us together. You are mine now,” he says in his deep voice, and suddenly he moves back, off your body, giving you a moment to breathe, but only so long before he grips you around the waist and throws you over his hairy shoulder. At first you're too shocked, then you start squirming and struggling in his hold, gripping his fur, slapping his broad back, kicking your feet. But it feels hopeless. He is just too big, too strong, holding your thighs together with only one hand.

A deep sigh sounds from him as he walks you further into the darkness, ignoring your weak attempts to fight back. Eventually you go limp in his hold, hanging upside down as you do, quickly feeling all the blood rushing into your head, adding to the nausea you felt earlier. Your fingers dig into his pelt, and you're surprised to find it rather soft. Not as rugged as it initially looked.

It doesn't help much to focus on the texture of his fur when you suddenly feel a change in elevation as he carries you down a set of stairs. Then your world is spinning once more when he pulls you off his shoulder, unceremoniously throwing you onto the ground. You land hard, with all the air being pushed out of your lungs, groaning as you roll onto your side, raspy breaths rattling in your tight throat. Before you can take a look around, something drapes over your head.

You cry out, frantically gripping whatever fabric is blocking your vision, only to find it's your red cloak. Staring at it after you've pulled it off your head, you frown.

“Put it on,” the large wolf man tells you in his gruff voice, and you frown even more. “And ditch the rest of your clothes.”

“What?” you gasp out and sit up quickly, looking at him with wide eyes, your heart beating faster.

“Do it yourself or I'll rip them off for you,” he replies, glaring down at you.

“W-why?” you stammer, hugging the cloak to your chest protectively.

An exasperated grunt escapes him. “Why do you think? It's the full moon, and that means one of two things: one, I either find a victim to eat... or two, one to eat out and fuck senseless. I figured you'd prefer the second option.”

Your lips part in a mixture of indignation and shock. Confusion is in there too. You should have known it would come to this, why else would he have carried you away, into his lair presumably, definitely not to talk. He told you not to be scared, but that was probably just a ploy to calm you down some. You are now far from it as hysteria grows within your fluttering stomach.

It's not necessarily the prospect of sex with a stranger, but this guy is a freaking wolf. A werewolf. An animal. Isn't that bestiality or something? And don't werewolves have special... cocks? You feel your cheeks warming up badly as your mind wanders, as do your eyes, lower down his large body, but before you can look for any genitalia between all that fur, you huff a grunt and look away, shaking your head.

“Hmm, you wanna make this difficult, little one?” he growls, slowly stalking closer until he's crouching in front of you, his large hands finding your shoulders, his claws pressing threateningly against your skin. “You should consider yourself lucky I think you're too cute to eat.”

You look back at him, into those dark eyes, his long snout so close to your face you can feel the warm breath on your chin. A shiver crashes through you, and to your biggest embarrassment, there's a throb between your legs, a familiar warmth settling in your core. You press your lips into a thin line and avert your eyes again. He exhales against your face.

“Well?” he huffs.

“You... you're a wolf...” you mumble in response, squirming in his hold. “How... how's that gonna work?”

His laugh catches you off guard. “Oh, little one, don't worry. I still have all the hardware needed for this, trust me. I bet you'll enjoy it more than you think...”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you blink slowly before focusing your eyes on his large head once more. You have to give it to him. He could have just taken you, taken what he wanted, ripped your clothes off and pounded into you like the feral beast he is, but he actually seems to ask for your consent in a way, or at least gives you time to consider it, which only adds to your confusion. The worst thing about it, is that your body already knows the answer.

He suddenly moves his snout, pressing his wet nose against your neck and sniffs, and you feel both ashamed and angry with yourself that he can probably smell your arousal as well. In an attempt to distract him from it, your hands shoot up as you dig your fingers into the thick fur of his chest, trying to push him away. He leans back and watches you curiously. You're breathing harder as you face him and the things that are bound to happen.

You can't fight him, he's too strong. From what you can see, he's brought you into some kind of basement and probably locked you in as well. There's no use trying to escape. You are here now, in his clutches, and he may be a werewolf with werewolf anatomy, but he's also talking and when you ignore the large wolf head, you can try to convince your mind that he's just a very hairy man.

And you did come to this party to let loose, to enjoy yourself, to experience an adventure. You had no idea it would turn into a sex adventure, but here you are. And if the alternative is being eaten alive by a monster, than what are you waiting for? Inhaling deeply, you let go of him and move your shaking hands to the buttons of your blouse, slowly undoing one by one as you keep him in your sight, while your heart beats faster with every inch of skin you expose to him.

He leans back on his haunches, his snout seemingly morphing into a wide smile. “What a good girl,” he growls, licking his sharp teeth.

You swallow hard as you continue to strip for him, until your chest is bare and you fidget to get your skirt over your hips in your sitting position. A yelp escapes you as he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you up, lifting you effortlessly as he stands up to his full height, holding you in front of him like a frightened kitten with your feet dangling in the air. You don't fight it anymore, you just look up at him, blushing as you notice his hungry stare wandering up and down your naked body.

He sets you to the ground again, gentler this time, then leans down to grab the cape and slowly drapes it around your shoulders, his large hands/paws fumbling to try to bind the string into a loop. You reach up, your small hands brushing against his furry digits, before you fasten the bow yourself, keeping the cloak from sliding down again. It does give you a bit of security, even though it leaves your front fully exposed to him. You should probably feel worse about this, but despite a heavy blush creeping down your chest, you try to remain as still as you can, forcing yourself to play along, not wanting to provoke him into eating you after all.

He huffs a satisfied grunt before he grabs you again and lifts you onto his arms. You hold onto his furry shoulders as you gasp softly from the sudden motion. Breathing harder, you focus on him instead of your surroundings, it would only make you want to find an escape route if you knew where he was taking you. First you have to finish this, satisfy the beast, and once he's sated and done with you, hopefully too exhausted to follow you, you could try to sneak away. That is the plan anyway.

You just hope you won't enjoy your predicament too much.

His heavy footsteps echo through the basement, and before you know it, he's throwing you down again, a little bit gentler and this time onto a softer surface, not a bed, but an assortment of thick blankets and pelts on the floor. There's even some straw beneath it all. Primitive, as you would expect from a beast snatching up random women in the night. Even though you may not have been as random as you think.

Fumbling to untangle the cape that got caught around your neck, you look towards him as he stalks closer, bent over like the monster he is, an imposing figure, a terrifying sight that makes goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin. When he suddenly prances forward, you yelp in surprise, trying to scoot back, but his large hands find your thighs, pinning you down and spreading your legs, and with your mind still reeling, you don't even have time to comprehend his next move until you feel his hot breath right against your center.

“No... wait...” you wail quietly, your hands shoving at his large head, but he doesn't budge, and when he opens his large maw and extends his long tongue, you watch him in both terror and with a strange fascination before a deep moan is ripped from your throat as you feel that same tongue lapping along your slit, parting your folds with a strength that makes you throw your head back. “Oh...”

Your fingers dig into the fabric of your cloak that's fanned out around you as you start bucking your hips up, a motion you didn't plan, it just happened, a reflex, a response to the urges boiling within you. It should feel strange to have this beast devour you like this, in a way you never expected, but it also feels too good to fight it anymore. His tongue is hot and wet and large enough to lick up your entire sex, all the way from your puckered hole to your throbbing clit. A single swipe leaves you absolutely breathless, writhing at the edge of pleasure.

He sure knows what he's doing.

And he keeps doing it until you dissolve into nothing but a mewling mess, a puddle of boneless limbs on the makeshift bed, moaning and gasping as the sensations crash through your nerves. On the peak of your orgasm he starts moving his tongue differently, pushes deeper between your folds, and before you know it you can feel it slipping into your clenching cunt, coaxing a strangled squeak out of you.

You hear and feel him huffing against you, low grunts that vibrate through your entire body, enhancing the feeling of his warm snout between your trembling legs. He moves the muscle deeper, laps at your squishy walls, presses into every crevasse he can reach, and all you can do is tilt your hips and contort before him, riding out the most intense orgasm you may have ever had. Most special one also.

Despite your mind turning into mush, filling up with cotton, you still wonder if this may just be a dream. The strangest one for sure, but still a dream. No way could you be eaten out by an actual werewolf. But when he keeps doing what he does, you soon stop caring and just enjoy the feeling. Doesn't matter. You're in for the ride now.

You don't know how many orgasms he pulls from you until he finally leans back and extracts his tongue from inside you. You barely feel it when he laps up your juices, grunting as he does so, but the moment he crawls over you, more of his big body pressing you into the blankets, you blink your eyes into focus and stare up at him, noticing how wet his muzzle looks. You feel your cheeks burning up. Somehow you have the urge to reach your hands up and pat his long snout, and you do, carefully stroking the rough fur all the way to his pointy ears, and he even hums deeply when you scratch him behind them.

A dumb little smile grazes your lips, and for a moment you wish he'd be a real man so you could kiss him, share the feeling of joy reverberating through your insides, but he has the head of a wolf and despite your blissed-out state you don't want to come into close contact with those sharp teeth. How he kept them away from your sensitive skin is still a mystery to you, but also nothing you seem to worry too much about.

He gives you a wide lick in response, his languid tongue stroke reaching from your chin all the way to your eyebrow, and you giggle and try to turn your head away, swatting at his head before wiping at the slobber on your skin. A growl like a laugh echoes from him before he shifts on top of you, strong arms braced on either side of your shoulders, his knees bracketed around your hips as he crouches over you, his shins pressing down on your wide open legs. The rough fur of his stomach rubs against your body, sending shivers down your spine.

“Look at it,” he tells you in a deep rumble, and you blink in confusion before your eyes move lower, and you see it.

It being his cock. It's huge. Bright red with a tapered tip and the hint of a bulbous protrusion near the base, fully unsheathed from within his furry groin as it lies hot and heavy on your fluttering stomach, reaching all the way up to your ribs. You swallow dryly at the sight of it. Too big. It'll never fit. Your eyes move back up to his face, and you can't help it, you shake your head no as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

He tilts his head, opening his maw to bare his teeth as he growls low in his throat. “You will take it. You were meant for it. You'll see,” he hisses darkly, nudging his wet nose against your chin before he starts lapping at your wet cheeks as the dam breaks and you realize you may have bitten off more than you can chew. “Shh, don't cry. You'll love it, I'm sure,” he continues between licking at your face, slowly moving his snout lower, teasing down your neck until you feel his hot breath on your quivering breasts. “And I will make it fit, trust me.”

You're not sure that's a good thing. But you can't do anything against it now. You are trapped beneath him. Breathing harder, your chest moving rapidly against his relentless tongue as he laps around your hardening nipples, you try to relax under his ministrations, lying back, closing your eyes, white-knuckling the blanket. He shifts on top of you, keeping his maw near your chest as he lines his hips up with yours.

You feel one of his furry hands slipping between your legs, rubbing over your puffy labia, spreading them, coaxing a quiet moan out of you as one clawed finger dips into your hole. Your eyes flutter open again. He looks up then, watching you out of these black eyes, so intense he seems to stare right into your soul, and when he retrieves his finger, you notice out of the corner of your eye how he grips his big cock, strokes it slowly, before pressing its pointy tip between your folds.

You hold your breath, trying to relax while also bracing for his penetration, your muscles already confused as they are. He pushes in then, slowly, almost carefully, and you feel the stretch as soon as his tip disappears inside you. A groan escapes you when he rolls his hips against you, and more and more of his large cock presses into your tight channel, bullying his way deeper. You're whimpering under his scrutinizing gaze as he watches you closely, seemingly looking for any sign of distress, even though he also doesn't seem to mind it too much as you gasp and yelp in pain whenever he forces another inch into you.

His hands circle your head as he leans over you, his wet nose rubbing at your neck. “You're doing great, little Red,” he huffs into your skin, keeping that slow and steady rhythm of moving his pelvis back and forth. “You can do this. You were made for this.”

You wail in response, turning your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, but also to look away from the beast ravaging you. If you focus your mind on the feel, you can almost imagine being fucked by a very bulky man with a very thick and veiny cock, and the thought makes it a little easier. Squeezing your eyes shut as he squeezes the last inches (or so you hope) of his large member into you, you are quickly overwhelmed by it all.

Quiet sobs fall from your trembling lips. You feel so incredibly full, so stretched, his cock taking up any available space inside you. You can feel the tapered tip pressing against your cervix, poking at it as if wanting to go deeper. It's a strange hurt, a sharp pain that turns into a weird comfort, almost-pleasure, as your muscles clench around the unfamiliar intruder. For now he is just resting there, heavy on top of you, heavy inside of you, but then, he starts moving.

You squeak like a slaughtered pig when he withdraws slowly before slamming his hips back against you, hammering his cock deep into you, forcing his way through your tense muscles. He gives you a moment to breathe between his thrusts, but only for so long, until he repeats the motion, over and over again. A slow drag along your walls, a forceful slam back into your depths, out and in, pause, out and in, pause, and despite the ever repeating rhythm you yelp out every time, surprised all over again by the sharp pain crashing through your body.

And it's not just his tip bullying your deepest points, it's that strange bulb at the base of his cock that nudges against your pussy lips with every deep plunge. What's it called? A knot? You don't know much about the matter, why would you ever be interested in animal anatomy, but you wish you could do a quick google or something to ease your mind at the strange sensations. Not that it would change anything.

He keeps pounding into you, always increasing his pace a little bit, slowly taking away your little breathing breaks, until he is hammering into you with full speed, just like the feral beast that he is, and all you can do is whine and wail and moan and mewl, unable to think, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but take it. You're squirming beneath him, both trying to get away from his ruthless assault and maybe, possibly, trying to match his rhythm to make it somewhat better for yourself.

His large form looms over you, his low grunts and growls loud in your ear as he nuzzles at your neck, bent over like he is, resting on his elbows, caging you in even further. Your hands shoot up to grip at his fur, and you even raise your twitching legs to steady them as you hook them around his strong thighs. It does help to be able to hold onto him like you do, without any limb moving about bonelessly, and the longer you cling to him, finally meeting his thrusts with snaps of your own hips, it starts to feel really good really fast.

Before you know it, you're arching against him, clawing at his back, gasping and sobbing and panting as the heat gathers inside you, burning through your nerves like wildfire, setting everything ablaze, and every rapid thrust spirals you higher and higher, building up that tension in your stomach that is sure to explode at any second. When it does, you are not ready.

A shrill scream rips from your throat as you press your back into the makeshift bed and stiffen beneath him, your mouth wide open as you squeeze your eyes shut. Warmth spreads inside you, forcing its way past the rapidly pistoning cock pummeling your clenching muscles, and it's like a tidal wave, not soothing as it laps against the shore, but destructive, powerful, all-consuming. It drags you along, threatens to drown you, pulls and pushes you as you lose all control over your convulsing body.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a blinding force, letting you forget anything around as it engulfs you in sparkling lights and mind-numbing bliss. By the time it subsides slowly, you can already feel it building up all over again as he just continues to fuck you in his relentless rhythm, hammering his cock deep into you, grunting on top of you, his maw parted as he growls, slobber glistening on his razor sharp teeth, his tongue hanging out lewdly.

But before he propels you into the next orgasm, he suddenly leans up, propped on his strong arms, licking his furry lips as he stares down at you. You may look up at him out of hooded eyes but you can't really see him, just this large shadow above you, but you do feel when he suddenly leaps back, pulls out with a force that coaxes another scream out of you as he rips his large cock from between your tight muscles. You writhe a little, groaning in frustration as your orgasm deflates, as that empty feeling settles in.

Though you don't have to lament the loss of his cock for too long as he grabs your waist and manhandles (wolfhandles?) you onto your hands and knees, at least he hopes you'd stay like this, but your body is too limp to fully function, and so you sink onto your chest, arms outstretched, face buried in the soft blankets, ass raised on shaking knees, your cloak tangled around you. He grips the fabric, strangling you for a moment before he notices his mistake and rips it right off you, making you gasp.

His large hand is on your head as he turns it to the side. You can feel his wet nose poking at your cheek. “I'm gonna breed you now, little one, and you will take it all, yes?” You blink at his words, so low they're only vibrations through your head, and you wonder if you heard him correctly. “I will pump you full and keep you on my knot until it sticks, you hear me?” Clearly you didn't, because... what now?

You squirm beneath him, trying to get up on your elbows at least, but he holds you down, one large hand on your nape as he shifts behind you, his fur brushing against the backs of your thighs before he nudges his knee between your legs and pushes them further apart. You can sense the heat of his cock before it even gets in contact with your core, and when it pushes inside you again, it feels like a knife cutting through melted butter.

You cry out, arching your back, jerking your hips away, but he is ruthless. He's carved his way into your cunt, but there's still a bit of resistance before you can take him as deep as he desires. He doesn't care though, just pounds into you with hard and fast thrusts, in and out, a rapid rutting accompanied by wild panting, and all you can do is grunt and moan too, your body pushed up and down the blankets. His hands move to your waist, claws digging into your soft flesh as he drags your hips back when he slams his against your cushioned rear, forcing his cock deeper still.

Your head is spinning, your heart thundering, and slowly, the burning pain turns into overwhelming pleasure. He's bullying your cervix again, plunging in and out with languid strokes, and you're so aroused by now that the only sound aside from your heavy breaths is the loud and lewd squelching of your wet cunt. It drives you insane how good it feels to be taken like this, bent over, a primal sensation, to be at the mercy of this beast. In this position, he hits all the right spots, and it's a blinding thing all around you as you come hard, crying out helplessly, hands digging into the blankets and pelts, body spasming against him.

He grunts as you clamp down on his cock, but he doesn't stop, he even moves faster, pushes harder, forces all of him into you. And despite your orgasmic haze you feel his knot pummeling against your entrance, trying to fit through. The pain cuts through the cotton in your mind, sharp little jolts whenever he pushes particularly deep, and when those throbbing bulbs suddenly breach you, as your muscles give way to the rest of his cock, you scream, first in agony at the stretching sensation, then again as another intense orgasm rips through you.

He lets out a low howl when your tight muscles clench around him, milking him for all he's worth, before he continues to snap his hips against your rear, bullying his knot deeper. If you felt full before, you are now close to bursting with how stuffed you are. You can barely breathe between all the gasps and whines, and he doesn't let you either as he continues his shallow rutting, his growls and grunts getting louder, more frantic, his clawed fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you against him.

You are again on the edge of pleasure, floating on that wave that threatens to consume you fully, when he suddenly stills, buried deep within you, tip squished right against your cervix, your cunt holding onto his knot as if you would drown without it, and you feel it throbbing, pulsing, swelling up, stretching you even further. Lightning crashes through the clouds of bliss, making you shriek, hot tears rolling down your already wet cheeks.

And then he grunts, leaning over you, snout nuzzling against your neck, burying in your hair, hot breath fanning over your skin as he gives you those tiny snaps of his hips, and your whole body moves with those motions, connected as you are. You feel him shaking above you before you feel something else deep inside you.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum shoots into the already cramped depths of your cunt, filling up quickly, but with his knot holding it all in place, it has no choice but to look for every nook and cranny it can find, pressing through the tiniest openings, and as it does, you shudder deeply, feeling ready to burst before yet another orgasm rips through you, leaving you shaking like a leaf, as his seed breaches into your womb, more and more, with every twitch of his cock, every pulse of his knot, rope after rope, filling you up until you feel completely bloated.

Somehow you manage to move a hand beneath you, rubbing against your usually soft tummy, but it's tense and hard, rounder than you remember it, and even though you should be terrified by it, you can only lie there and take it, as the wolf man above you leans on you and pumps you as full as he has promised. His breathing eases slowly, yours takes a lot longer to go back to normal, and with your heart thundering inside your heaving chest, you feel utterly exhausted.

He licks his tongue over your wet cheek, a sweet gesture among the feral breeding act, and you can't help but give him a tired smile as you try to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He huffs against you, resting his large head on your back as he relaxes – letting his body work for him, because you can still feel him throbbing, shooting more cum into you at irregular intervals, usually accompanied by a soft little roll of his hips, a little nudge to remind your tight cunt he's still very much stuck inside you.

You wonder how long this will last. But before you can think more about this animal rite, your eyelids grow heavier and the world turns black.

You wake with a shriek as you feel a particularly hard thrust hitting your bruised and probably dilated cervix, the sudden pain crashing through you like the stab of a knife. You're no longer kneeling on the makeshift bed, you're lying on your back on his wide body, legs fallen open over massive furry thighs, two strong arms holding you tightly in their grip, squishing your tender breasts. He's switched you around, huffing and puffing beneath you as he pushes his hips up in a slow but steady rhythm.

“Again?” you groan out, trying to squirm in his tight embrace.

“Not over yet, little one,” he growls into your ear, wet nose poking at your cheek as he shifts beneath you. “More to give.”

“Ugh,” you make, your head lolling back against his shoulder. “But I'm so full...”

“You can take more,” he tells you quietly, a low rumble in the air. One large hand moves down your body, firmly pressing against your bloated stomach. You moan in response, your own hand finding his, trying to feel the same he does.

It's unnatural, that's for sure. That bump should not look and feel like this after only one load of his seed. But then again – he is unnatural, everything about him is. Who knows how special his cum is. Though you really don't want to think about it. You don't want to get pregnant, no matter how hot the whole breeding thing may be in theory. And you probably won't anyway, he's a wolf (man), it sure won't be compatible, right? A groan escapes you as you shake your head to clear it. No more thinking.

Just enjoy his warmth, the way he holds you, moves inside you, locked on his knot for who knows how long. Despite it all it feels comforting, somehow even romantic in a way, to be connected like this. Inhaling deeply, you relax into his soft but also hard body, his fur feels nice against your sweaty skin, the bulging muscles beneath exuding strength and safety. A good bed, that's what he is, with the added bonus of a truly incredible cock that fills you out perfectly, rubbing you just the right way.

Another wave of exhaustion washes over you, alongside what feels like the gentlest orgasm you've ever experienced, a little tingling sensation, a burning deep within, a soothing caress. You sigh contently, closing your eyes, falling deeper into his embrace.

When you come to next, you feel a cold breeze against your face that makes your nose twitch. You seem to move, but your limbs are still out of order, and when you slowly fight your way back into consciousness, you realize you're being carried, with two strong hands holding your thighs up while you are still impaled by that unbelievably resilient cock. A groan escapes you.

“Calm down, little one,” the wolf man grunts into your ear as he walks through the dark basement. “Almost done now.”

“Does it always take this long?” you whisper, leaning into him, your hands grabbing his wrists to steady yourself.

“For the knot to go down? Well, you are particularly arousing, my little Red, I can't help it. Seems you are my special mate after all,” he hums deeply.

You turn your head slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Mate?”

“Yes, mate. I would have made you mine already, but I wanted to see how you can take me.” He inhales deeply as he presses his muzzle into your hair. “You did amazingly,” he adds, lapping at the shell of your ear. You shiver, squirming away with a surprised giggle that travels through your entire body, making you clench around his hard cock.

“Your stamina is really concerning,” you reply with a shake of your head. “Not sure I could do this again...”

“But you're still doing it, holding my knot so perfectly, keeping my seed inside you,” he huffs gently, licking along your neck as he turns around and walks back the way he came.

“Why are you walking in circles?” you wonder, moving your hands to your rounded stomach. Every movement seems to slosh its contents about. A strange feeling for sure.

“I can't keep you on it forever, I am afraid,” he says in a low rumble. “The moon is setting soon...”

You frown at his words, not even wondering what time it is right now, shifting in his hold to better look into his wolfish face. “And then what?”

“I'll turn into a man again,” he tells you, his dark eyes boring into yours. Something warm crashes through you.

“How is that a bad thing?” you blurt out, more excited about that prospect than you probably should be.

He huffs a low laugh, shaking his large head. “You wouldn't want to be near me when I do. It's painful even for me, and to have you stuck to me would be... devastating.”

“Oh,” you make, blinking as you process his words, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Let's try our luck, hm?” he then says, carrying you back to the makeshift bed.

He kneels down with you strapped to his chest like a newborn in a carry-on, and when he bends you forward, you brace yourself, resting on your hands and knees as he shifts behind you. His clawed fingers dig into your plump hips as he gives you a tentative nudge of his pelvis. You wince at the sensation, the stretch and pull on your tight muscles sending shivers down your spine.

His sigh is loud and warm around you, and apparently his knot is still too inflated to budge. Inhaling deeply, you buck your rear against him, trying to relax, ease your muscles, force his cock out of you. He seems to notice your efforts and starts pulling gently, grinding his hips, inching himself backwards. You still feel a sharp pain when his knot nudges against your tight entrance from within, but it's slowly widening, giving way, and when he pops out and slips free, you gasp and collapse on the bed, the sudden loss of pressure almost dizzying.

He lets out a low growl, his hand rubbing over your swollen pussy lips as you feel your muscles contracting around nothing, or rather the flood of cum that's bound to spill from your depths if he wouldn't hold his large palm there. He rolls you onto your side, snuggling against your back, before he pulls his fingers away, pressing your thighs together instead. His wet nose rubs against your jaw as he pulls his strong arms around you.

“Rest now, little one. Keep your legs closed,” he whispers, holding you tightly.

You're too exhausted to protest or care about any possible spillage or whatever consequences may result from this unusual coupling. None of it matters. Sleep does sound really good right about now. The wolf man relaxes behind you, his deep breaths slowly turning into loud snores, and you allow yourself to catch some Zs too. You'll need your strength. For something. Hmm. What was it again? Some sort of plan? Doesn't matter. It'll come to you. Now you just want to rest, let your body recover from whatever ordeal this has been. Knotted and bred by a werewolf. Pfft. What a silly dream...

Your eyes fly open as if someone has turned on the light in your empty mind, illuminating everything that's happened earlier. Oh. Oh God. Oh no! Your breaths accelerate, your heart beats faster as you realize where you are, in whose arms you're lying. His snores still echo through the cavernous room, your body molded to his larger frame, his arms tight around you.

Carefully you wriggle your way out of his embrace, listening closely to his rumbling sounds, but he seems too far gone to notice your frantic escape. You manage to slip from under his arms, your body aching when you move it, but you fight through the discomfort and slowly stand up on shaking legs. Immediately you feel something wet and sticky dripping down your thigh, and a quick touch to your bloated stomach tells you, you are still filled to the brim with werewolf cum. Fuck. This can't be happening.

Turning around, you see the furry beast slumbering away peacefully, his large body moving with every thundering snore. Once you got your bearings, you start looking around the room until you find some clothes. Not yours though, but a big plaid shirt that you slip into. It reaches almost to your knees, so it'll have to do. When your eyes fall on the red cloak next to the makeshift bed, you hesitate, but then you leave it behind. Let him have a small remembrance of your special night.

At least you find your shoes, and once you're ready to leave, you throw a last glance back at the monster. He's still fast asleep, and you almost regret having to leave, but you can't just live in some cave or basement with a werewolf, letting him pump you full of cum to carry his pups or whatever it is he expects of you, no matter how mind-blowing the experience has been.

Biting your lip, you turn around and try to find a way out, and surprisingly enough, he didn't lock you in. After climbing a set of stairs, you find yourself in a small cabin, and when you try the front door, it just opens. Stepping outside into the night (which surprises you, you were almost certain you were stuck on his damn knot for a day or more, or so it felt), you fight the shivers, snuggling into the large shirt that smells like him, a comforting scent that doesn't make it easier to leave.

But you do, trying to find your way through the darkness. The moon is nowhere to be seen, it may just be a cloudy night, or it really was close to setting, you can't be sure, and frankly, it doesn't concern you anymore. You gotta move on, get back to the house, ask someone to call you an Uber...

As you suddenly realize you have no idea where your purse is, you stumble onto a better lit path, but the sight of what awaits you at the end makes you shiver deeply. It's a graveyard.

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

You've come to a (literal) dead end. Or have you?

No, just keep going...

But you can always go back to the beginning and choose another door. Back in the hallway, here are your options:

Reach for the door closest to you.

Go through the door a few feet on your right.

Notes: I'd like to thank @moongurl95 for planting this idea into my head! Thank you so much for sharing your open-ended dream, it really inspired this whole adventure, but particularly this part! I hope I could fill in the blanks! <3

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

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librababe99 · 3 months ago

Text

Savage Devotion

cw: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Logan (X-Men: Origins specifically), Fem! Reader, established relationship, heavy smut, animalistic tendencies, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) overstimulation, slight breeding kink (if you squint) word count: 2.5K

Summary: where pleasure and pain blur, but Logan shows you exactly what it means to be taken by a beast.

A/N: I was in the mood for something a little spicy tonight 🤭 soooo I hope y'all enjoy this one! Please feel free to comment, like or reblog! Happy reading <3

(Marvel Masterlist)

You had always known Logan was a rough man. His reputation had preceded him long before you'd ever met him, tales of the Wolverine, a man with claws of adamantium and a growl that would make even the bravest quiver. You’d heard the stories, seen the aftermath of battles he’d been through, and yet, none of that had prepared you for the real thing—the man in front of you, the beast in your bed.

It wasn’t the first time. You weren’t naïve. You knew Logan carried a roughness in him that most men didn’t, a raw and untamed energy that hovered on the edge of feral. But there was something about the way he looked at you, even through his gruff exterior, that made you shiver—made you want more.

Right now, Logan loomed over you in the dimly lit cabin, his eyes glinting in the low light, like a predator sizing up its prey. He had that look on his face, the one that always sent a tremor through your core—a dark promise in those eyes, a wicked curl to his lip. Your wrists were bound above your head with a thick, coarse rope, tied to the wooden headboard. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not quite, but the tension in the rope was constant, a reminder of the control he held over you in that moment.

You shifted beneath him, testing the bonds, and his eyes narrowed. “You tryin’ to get free, sweetheart?”

His voice was like gravel, low and rough, sending a surge of heat between your legs. He was still fully clothed, wearing the same worn leather jacket he always did, his jeans sitting low on his hips, but that did nothing to hide the coiled strength beneath them. You bit your lower lip, knowing exactly what kind of game you were playing.

“Maybe,” you teased, letting your hips arch slightly off the bed, a subtle challenge.

Logan’s gaze darkened further, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath. He reached out, one gloved hand cupping your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re gonna be a brat tonight, huh?” His thumb pressed hard against your lips, forcing them open slightly, and you couldn’t help but flick your tongue out, just to taunt him.

That earned you a growl. Low, dangerous. Logan wasn’t the kind of man who played soft, and tonight, it was clear you’d pushed a button. He wasn’t going to be gentle. But that’s exactly what you wanted.

“Always trying to get a rise outta me, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice dripping with the weight of a threat. “You want to see how far I’ll take this, don’t ya?”

His thumb slid further into your mouth, forcing you to suck on it, and you complied, tongue swirling around the rough skin. It tasted like leather, like the residue of smoke and iron. Logan was in no rush, his thumb slow and deliberate, controlling the pace of your mouth on him. He watched you with a hungry gaze, his body hovering over yours, dominating the space.

“I think I’ll teach you a lesson tonight,” he muttered, pulling his thumb from your lips with a soft pop. He leaned back, taking a moment to shed his jacket, revealing the taut muscles beneath his fitted shirt. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the way his muscles flexed beneath the fabric, the outline of scars, both old and new, that littered his body.

You tried to wiggle your wrists, but the ropes held firm. It was intoxicating, the way you were trapped, fully at his mercy, even though you trusted him not to go too far. Your heart pounded in your chest as he moved closer again, this time bringing his knee between your thighs, spreading your legs wide as he knelt between them.

“You don’t get to squirm,” Logan ordered, his voice deep and authoritative. “You wanted this, didn’t ya? So now, you’re gonna take whatever I give you.”

His hands, rough and calloused, slid up the inside of your thighs, teasing, but not gentle. He wasn’t here to pamper you tonight. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes raked over your body with a predatory gleam. This was Logan in his element. Raw. Dominant. Unforgiving.

You were already soaked, anticipation pooling between your legs as his hands pushed your thighs further apart. His fingers teased at the waistband of your panties, hooking underneath them, but he didn’t pull them off yet. Instead, his fingers just hovered there, barely touching your skin, and it drove you wild.

“Logan, please,” you whimpered, trying to shift your hips toward his hand, desperate for more contact. But he pulled away just as quickly, his hand coming down hard against the inside of your thigh, a sharp slap that made you gasp.

“What did I say about squirming?” His voice was a growl, sending shivers up your spine. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, sweetheart. You don’t get to beg yet.”

You whimpered, trying to compose yourself, but the heat that pulsed between your legs was unbearable. You wanted him—needed him. Every inch of you was on fire, burning with desire, but Logan wasn’t going to make this easy for you. He liked to make you wait. Liked to see you unravel beneath him.

He leaned down, his mouth grazing the skin of your inner thigh, right where he had slapped you moments before. His teeth nipped at the tender flesh, and you squirmed again, biting down hard on your lip to stifle a moan.

“Sensitive tonight, aren’t ya?” he muttered against your skin, his stubble brushing over the sensitive area as he kissed his way higher, dangerously close to where you needed him most.

But still, he didn’t touch you where you wanted. His fingers teased the edges of your panties, his breath hot against the damp fabric, and all you could do was writhe beneath him, restrained and helpless.

“Please,” you gasped, voice hoarse with need. “Please, Logan, I need you.”

His response was a low chuckle, dark and full of promise. “Oh, I know what you need, darlin’. But I ain’t giving it to you until I’m good and ready.”

His fingers finally hooked into your panties, pulling them down agonizingly slow. The cool air against your exposed skin made you shudder, and Logan took his time, admiring the sight of you spread out before him, bound and at his mercy. He didn’t say a word as he tossed your panties aside, his eyes roaming over you with a hunger that was almost palpable.

You could see the bulge in his jeans, the way his body was already coiled with tension, and yet, he was holding back, savoring every second of your anticipation. The bastard loved it—loved watching you squirm, loved making you beg. And god dammit, you loved it too.

Logan’s fingers slid between your folds, slick with your arousal, and he growled low in his throat. “So wet already,” he muttered, his fingers spreading you open, teasing at your entrance but not pushing inside yet. “You really are a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle another whimper as his fingers circled your clit, slow and deliberate. He was toying with you, building you up slowly, and it was driving you insane. You needed more—needed him inside you, needed the roughness, the way only Logan could fuck you.

“Logan, please,” you begged again, voice desperate. “I need you. Please.”

His fingers stilled, and for a moment, you thought he might finally give in. But instead, he pulled his hand away entirely, leaving you empty and aching.

“You don’t get to call the shots, darlin’,” he said, his voice hard and unyielding. “I’m in control here. You want me? You’re gonna take what I give you, and you’re gonna say thank you when I’m done.”

He stood, his presence towering over you, and you watched as he undid the belt on his jeans, the sound of leather sliding through metal sending a shiver of anticipation through you. You watched, breathless, as he pulled his cock free, hard and thick, the sight of him making your mouth water.

But Logan wasn’t in any rush. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes locked on yours, making sure you could see just how much he enjoyed watching you squirm. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat tight with need.

Logan smirked, crawling back onto the bed, his body pressing down over yours as he lined himself up with your entrance. “You better be ready for it, ‘cause I ain’t going easy.”

And then he was inside you, a single, brutal thrust that filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the stretch of him sending a white-hot pulse of pleasure through your body, and you cried out, the sound muffled by his mouth as he kissed you, hard and demanding.

Logan didn’t give you time to adjust. He set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into yours with each thrust, driving himself deeper inside you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you hard, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through your body.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice a low rumble in your ear, “taking me so well, even when you’re all tied up. You’re such a good little slut for me, aren’t you?”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly, a mixture of humiliation and lust that made you clench around him. You could barely respond, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he pounded into you relentlessly, each thrust a reminder of just how much control he had over your body. The ropes around your wrists burned slightly as you pulled against them instinctively, desperate for something to hold onto, something to ground you in the whirlwind of sensation.

Logan’s grip on your hips was bruising, fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building, that tight coil of pleasure deep in your core that threatened to snap with every thrust, but Logan wasn’t letting up. He was relentless, taking exactly what he wanted from you, the sound of your moans and the wet slap of skin filling the small cabin.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you clenching around me,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down, his stubble grazing your cheek. “You like it when I’m rough with you, don’t you? You like being used.”

The degradation hit you like a punch, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, your body arching up to meet his brutal pace. You hated how much you loved it, how much his cruelty turned you on, but Logan knew you too well. He could see the way your body responded to him, the way your thighs trembled as you hurtled toward the edge of oblivion.

“I want you to come for me,” he demanded, his voice sharp as his fingers found your clit, rubbing tight, firm circles over the swollen nub. “I want to feel you come around my cock. But you better thank me when you do, understand?”

You nodded frantically, tears of pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes as the sensations overwhelmed you. His pace was merciless, the rough pressure on your clit pushing you right to the edge of orgasm, but Logan wasn’t going to let you go until you gave him exactly what he wanted.

“I said, do you understand?” he snarled, his voice commanding, and you gasped, nodding again as the words tore from your throat.

“Yes! Yes, Logan, I understand!”

“Good girl.”

That was all it took. The coil inside you snapped, and your orgasm hit you like a freight train, tearing through your body with an intensity that left you shaking and breathless. You cried out, your body spasming beneath his as you came hard, the feeling of his thick cock driving deep inside you the only anchor in the storm of pleasure.

“That’s it,” Logan grunted, his own voice rough with barely-contained lust. “Feel how tight you are around me? So good, fuckin’ perfect.”

But he didn’t stop. Even as you trembled and gasped beneath him, the waves of pleasure still crashing through you, Logan kept going, his hips slamming into yours with a punishing rhythm that only seemed to heighten your sensitivity. It was too much—too intense—and yet you wanted more, needed more. Every nerve in your body was alight, each thrust dragging another desperate moan from your lips.

Logan was close, you could tell from the way his breathing had grown ragged, the way his grip on your hips tightened. His pace grew erratic, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, and you knew he was about to come. But Logan wasn’t a man who would take what he wanted without giving something in return.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “So tight, so wet for me. I’m gonna fill you up, gonna mark you as mine. You want that, don’t you? Want me to come inside you?”

“Yes!” you gasped, your body still quivering from the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Please, Logan, I need it—need you.”

That was all he needed. With a final, brutal thrust, Logan buried himself deep inside you, groaning low in his throat as he came, the warmth of his release spilling into you. His body tensed above you, his hips jerking as he rode out his orgasm, and you felt him pulse inside you, filling you completely.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the harsh breathing of both of you, the weight of Logan’s body pressing you into the mattress. You were spent, your body limp and sated, the ache between your legs a dull reminder of just how rough he had been. And yet, you wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Slowly, Logan pulled out of you, his eyes still dark with hunger as he watched your body tremble in the aftermath of your shared pleasure. He untied your wrists carefully, his rough hands gentle now as he rubbed the red marks left by the rope.

“You did good, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though no less rough. “Took everything I gave you.”

You smiled weakly, your body still buzzing with the remnants of pleasure. “I told you I could handle it.”

Logan smirked, his fingers brushing over your tender skin as he leaned down to kiss you, this time slow and possessive. “I know. That’s why I fuckin’ love you.”

The words sent a different kind of warmth through you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Even after everything, Logan still managed to make you feel safe, cared for, even when he was at his roughest.

As you lay there, tangled in each other’s arms, Logan’s rough fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, you couldn’t help but smile. This was the man you loved—feral, dangerous, but always wanting to please you. Always wanting to take care of you in his own brutal, primal way.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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tinalbion · 4 months ago

Text

'𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐧' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x afab!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, afab!reader, mutant!reader, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, canon typical language, angst, feelings

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 7k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Logan are taken to another timeline that you could possibly help save, but your deep-rooted love for him is the only thing keeping you going anymore, but he doesn't seem to feel that way at all. Could you get Logan to see reason why you're here with him, or will it fall on deaf ears?

As everyone has been inspired by that dang Honda scene from Deadpool and Wolverine, I was as well, and listening to 'Lies' by Trifonic really helped fuel the backstory between Logan and reader here.

____________________________________________

You weren’t sure how you ended up in a field, miles away from what you called your home, but the smell of smoke and fire woke you from your aching slumber. Whether it was the distant sounds of the fire crackling or the smell of it finally getting a rise out of you, you weren’t certain, but you wandered in a haze through the burnt grass fields. Your eyes were glued to the remnants of Xavier’s school for gifted people, your kind, mutants. The screams of sadness that wanted to come from deep within were stuck in your throat, your watery eyes stared at the scene as you looked around for any survivors, wondering if there were any.

As much as it pained you considering how much blood you’ve already lost, you dug for hours and found things you wanted no part in finding, but there was that damn sliver of hope you clung to for whatever reason, and the one man you wished you could find wasn’t here… maybe he was safe. You wandered toward the front entrance of the mansion and fell to the ground, sobbing as you waited for anyone to help, or maybe you waited for a swift death to someone who would grant it to you. There was always the hatred for your kind, mutants, freaks, and there would always be that stupid luck someone would stumble upon you and put you out of your misery.

But as luck would have it, a slightly buzzed Logan walked up to the entrance, seeing you on the ground sobbing, the flames behind you, and the destruction that lay behind you. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first, thinking that maybe the alcohol finally did hit him, especially since it took him ages to even get drunk in the first place.

“Hey, that you…?” Logan asked gruffly as he stumbled toward you, seeing you coated in crimson.

You looked up, wide eyes filled with tears, and thinking you were seeing ghosts now. “L-Logan?” You asked, shaking. “Oh Gods, you’re alive?” You shot up to your feet and ran to him, stumbling into his broad chest as you sobbed heavily against him.

He looked past you as one arm lazily wrapped around you, his eyes drinking in the reality he was seeing. “What the hell happened here…?” His voice was low, cracking, and he was unable to control his tone.

“Logan, the humans… they came and destroyed everyone… we thought we’d have it, but… I can’t find anyone alive. Logan… they’re all dead,” you said through sobs.

The world around him stopped and time was nothing to him anymore, the news of their deaths… all of them, it was impossible. There were so many mutant lives and so many powers that were practically unstoppable, and yet you stood here telling him no one survived, save for you.

“How… how did you live?” He asked, his tone shifting from shocked to what you thought was defensive.

Your eyes widened and began to shake as you thought he sounded… accusatory. “Logan, I didn’t do this-”

“I never said you did,” he replied quickly, trying to shut that thought down, but the damage was already starting.

“You pretty much did, but if you must know, my power… you know I can’t control it when I’m unconscious…” You said shamefully, rubbing your arm as you stepped back, but he pulled you toward him, his hand firm on your arm.

“Where were you?” You asked him, your eyes stared into his as he suddenly shifted, the entire mood was off, and he turned away from your gaze. “Logan, we called for you… what happened?”

“Don’t,” he said, more of a plead than a warning, “I ain’t accusing you of anything,” he assured you, but you were still so confused and scared, you weren’t sure what to make of everything just yet.

What would you think of him, what would you say when you found out he was too busy getting shitfaced at the bar, and not back at the mansion where he should have been? He seemed uneasy as his grip loosened from your arm, but he didn’t fully let go of you. You were the one part of this life, this world that wasn’t gone, and all he could do was stare at the flaming heap of rubble behind you.

Your relationship with Logan was one of complication, you knew that from the moment you two met, he was just a complicated man. One capable of loving too hard, hurting too strongly, and feeling rage more than anyone possibly could. But you loved him anyway, you just never managed to fully tell him that, even now you couldn’t find yourself muttering the words ‘I love you,’ and you figured you never would. He loved her, and only her. You would never compare in his eyes, and after a long time, you were content with that, because you would still be there for him despite the heartache you felt.

You often felt the sharp sting of hurt, jealousy, and uselessness because all you could think was ‘I’m not her’, and it would quite possibly be your downfall. And you were still there for him, despite so many others telling you to give up. If you gave up, you’d be no better than those who’d given up on him in his past, and you could never bring yourself to do that. You were dedicated, if anything.

But here and now, as you sobbed against him as your blood slowly soaked back up into your body, gently healing your wounds, you could feel the sadness and the guilt that came with surviving.

“I was…”

He didn’t have to say it, the smell of the booze on his breath finally hit you and you were disappointed in yourself for not realizing it sooner. You had tried to get him to stop, you really did, but the heartbreak was too much for him to handle, and it’s not like you could have stopped it anyway…

“No, I get it…” You sighed and looked back at the mansion as you pulled away from him, Logan felt the pain within the distance, but he didn’t comment on it. “I’m gonna… go and see what I can find, I don’t know…” You wiped more tears from your eyes and sighed.

Logan watched as you walked off, back into the flaming rubble, unable to speak his mind, unable to apologize. If he was there, maybe he could have stopped it all, everyone would still be alive, and you’d all be a little happier. That was a lie, he knew that, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t hope.

That day was the first day it all went even further downhill.

You remained with Logan, glued to his side even though he remained inside the bar more than any other place, yet you felt you should be there for him even though there was that voice in the back of your mind saying he wasn’t there for you. For them. But what kind of person would you be if you abandoned him? You’d be just like the rest, and you refused to be them, so as much as it pained you to see him drink his life away, you stood by his side. You helped him, and became his caretaker, which was pathetic of you in the first place, but you still loved him, even after all of that. What became of the X-Men, well, all the humans hated you both for it, reminding you each day how much you both fucked up.

But the day a man walked through that door, a loud-mouthed fool with no signs of shutting the hell up, grabbed Logan from his seat and told him he needed him. You were sitting in the back of the bar, watching Logan as you always had, but you ran to the red-clad man once he held his gun to his head. Logan just smiled and laughed, hoping he’d do it as if it would have mattered.

Right in front of you, Logan begged for death, seeing no real reason to be alive anymore. To say your heart ached was an understatement. The man fell back and as Deadpool was about to reach for him, you kicked his arm away from him, causing the gun to slip right out of his grasp.

“Look here, Angel face, you get mixed up with this and I’ll have to hurt you, I don’t wanna do-”

You kicked him again, this time in the face to shut him up, and he stumbled back, looking surprised, even through the mask. “How dare you! I am trying to save my world and I need that shithead’s help! I don’t have time to fight you.”

“Well you’re taking the ONE person I give a damn about, so you’re gonna have to go through me.”

“Look, whatever little love thing- AHH WHAT THE SHIT?!”

“I said leave him alone,” you warned.

Your power was coming forth as you held out both your hands, manipulating the iron in his bloodstream, slowly pulling it from his body through his skin. It hurt a LOT but it wouldn’t kill him if you didn’t yank it all out at once.

“Shit STOP it, okay?! Lemme explain!”

You lowered your hands and allowed his blood to remain in his body, he sighed and leaned back into the barstool. “Jesus fuck, woman, give a guy a chance to talk!”

“That’s all you been doing, asshole! Then tried to kidnap my… friend, and I’m not letting him go.”

Deadpool explained what was going on, introduced himself, and said why he needed your Logan from this world, so you took a step back and eyed him curiously. But as soon as this man now known as Deadpool lifted Logan up, your hand grabbed his wrist and you shot him a warning glance.

“Whatever you’re doing, I’m going with, and that’s not a question.”

“Ooh, and who the hell do you think you are? Rip off Magneto?” He asked with more excitement and playfulness than you expected.

“That doesn’t matter, but you’re taking my friend, and I’m not letting you leave without me if he’s going, too.”

The bartender glared at you and waved dismissively. “She’s just as pathetic as he is, too, so take her if you’re takin’ the other one,” he sneered.

You glared back at him and fought the urge to hurt him, but you looked up at Deadpool and continued to hold onto his arm. “Please, I’m not leaving him, and if you need an extra hand, so be it.”

“Well, whatever you say, princess, but try not to get in the way of Peanut’s big moment here, okay? We got a world to save.”

“Sounds fine by me,” you replied, just wanting to be near Logan no matter the cost.

You arrived in another world, or as Wade called it, a timeline, with Logan, but then immediately zapped into a place called the Void, which was already enough of a mindfuck for you to want to be far away from as you could, but you ended up in a small diner as Logan searched for food. Deadpool sat back and ate whatever he could find as you all took a moment to recuperate. You sat away from them both, suited up with your old clothes from your time in the mansion, it felt odd to be wearing it again, but you felt like you had a purpose again, and it seemed that Logan was doing fairly well despite the circumstances.

“Ya know, in my world, you were… you were well-regarded,” Deadpool said, trying to break the silence as per usual, and to try and ease the well-known angry Wolverine.

“Yeah, well, not in mine,” he said gruffly, taking a drink from the rubbing alcohol bottle in his hand.

You grimaced at the sight but kept your mouth shut, you were normally quiet so you wouldn’t ruin the moment by talking.

“Yeah, they don’t like me much,” Deadpool said with a more gentle tone.

“Ya don’t say.”

“I wanted to be something, ya know… Shit, I wanted to be an Avenger.”

“Fuck the Avengers.”

Wade laughed and sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t make the cut though. Same with the X-Men. My girlfriend left me-”

“You had a girlfriend?” Logan asked, shocked by this revelation.

Deadpool laughed. “Ooh yeah, Vanessa. Had a whole life planned. And I uh, well, I fucked that right up. But YOU, you were an X-Man, THE X-Man. The Wolverine. He’s a hero in my world…” Deadpool looked over at Logan, who sat away from the both of you and angrily stared off into the diner, trying not to listen, but Wade never would shut the hell up.

“Yeah well, he ain’t shit in mine.” Logan stood up, whipped the can of alcohol into the kitchen area of the diner, then walked outside.

Deadpool remained seated and looked over at you. “So what’s Wolvie’s problem, anyway?”

“That’s a long story, Wade, I don’t think I can tell it…” You said softly, looking away from his gaze as you watched Logan from the window.

“You love him or somethin’?” He asked, his voice soft, showing a small moment of vulnerability. “That why you came to babysit pissed off Honey Badger?”

This made your head turn to him and you looked almost perplexed, how had he known? Was it so obvious, written all over your face? Your cheeks felt warmer as you looked back through the window. “Doesn’t matter, not like he’d love me back. Just here to make sure he doesn’t die. And it’s not like I have shit to go back to, either.”

Wade regarded your answer and figured there wasn’t much to talk about after that, but he stood up and walked toward you, patted your shoulder, and ruffled your hair. “You’re too good for that guy, mutie, wait uh, what is your name?”

“Just call me Failure, everyone else does.”

Deadpool scoffed and shook his head. “Nahhh, you don’t look like one of those. Oh! What abouttttt Jamie Lee, suits you bein’ a babysitter and all-”

This made you scoff and you couldn’t help but shake your head. “Man, Logan is right, you never shut up, do you?” It was said more playfully, but you looked back at Logan, whose back was to you both.

“Not one god damned bit, now anyway Baby Lee, let’s go and get that grumpy little man for you-”

You groaned and stood up to shove Deadpool out of the way, then walked off to get to him before Wade did, but he was fast.

“Girlfriend material, comin’ through!” Wade called in a sing-song voice as you stomped toward Logan, who didn’t even turn to greet either of you. The merc walked up beside Logan and leaned on him playfully as you stood a few feet away to give him space. “Your girlfriend is worried about you, Peanut,” he hummed. “And not gonna lie, she puts up a hell of a fight, almost stopped me from yankin’ ya right into my little world-saving problem,” he said teasingly.

“She ain’t my girlfriend,” he grumbled and sulked off. Deadpool bound after him and you followed behind hesitantly.

“Oh I know, she told me as much, but I dunno Wolvie, the way she almost pulled my blood from my body to save your ass means there’s something there, trust me. Nothing hotter than a dedicated woman who would pull my blood out to save your sorry drunk ass, and if you don’t want her, hell, I hope you consider sharing~”

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan stalked off ahead of you and you both followed after.

The three of you somehow ended up finding a Deadpool variant, which ended up lending you his Honda Odessy, with which your Deadpool had an issue, but it ended up working out in the end as he trotted off, getting himself lost with yet another Deadpool variant: Dogpool. Logan had no intention of sticking around, so you followed obediently like you always did and figured you’d get to the borderlands and wait for Wade if need be.

The drive in the beginning was quiet and awkward as Logan drove, leaving you to stare out of the window in silence, wondering if you should have said anything to him. It occurred to you that you hadn’t gotten a moment alone with him since being whisked away here, and now that you’d been thinking about it, it was terrifying.

Logan had been looking over at you every so often as you stared out the window, your eyes seeing the same scenery as you leaned your head against the window. He opened his mouth to speak and stopped several times, and you could feel that he was trying to get your attention. You turned toward him and looked into his eyes, catching his stare, but he pulled away and looked back in the direction he drove in.

“What is it, Logan?” You asked him softly.

He cleared his throat and sighed. “I just wanna know why you’re here.”

This stung a little, thinking that he’d be better off without you, maybe? You huffed and didn’t meet his gaze. “I came because I felt I had to,” you replied shortly.

“That you had to?” He wanted you to clarify, of course, he did.

“Yeah, I had to, because I didn’t wanna lose the only person I had left, okay?” You said with a bite to your words. “I didn’t want to hurt more than I already do. And despite you not being able to see it or maybe not caring, you’re all I have left, Logan.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as he listened to you, knowing you were right, you were both hurting and he had shoved your feelings aside to wallow in his own self-pity. He turned back toward the road, his hands gripping the wheel tight as he thought about it, about how you had been there for him all this time, despite the hurt and anger he felt and pushed onto you, there you were, never letting him down when he needed you. Even when he didn’t ask you for a single thing, you were always there, and looking back on it now, it fucking hurt.

Someone so selfless like you… stuck with someone like him. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself.

“You’re not,” you responded back immediately, always there to combat his self-depreciation. You really were an angel.

“I am, wanna know why? Because I’m too fucking stupid to see that since day one, you were there, through all of it, through all my bullshit that I put you through… Even before that day…you were there Wade said something at that diner about you almost killing him just because he threatened to take me, and you insisted on going with me despite not knowing what the fuck we were getting ourselves into.”

You shifted in your seat uneasily, wondering what point he was trying to make. “It was nothing-”

“Don’t say that, you can’t just say that after everything you’ve done for me? Why, Star?”

Star, the nickname he’d given you on your first day in the mansion, knowing very well how to tug at your heartstrings. You sighed as you turned toward him, wondering if now was the time, and there would never be a good time, you figured. “Logan, I don’t-”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he warned with that look, the look you knew too well when he was trying to be intimidating. “I wanna hear it, why are you here?”

“Because I fucking love you, okay?! Despite you loving Jean, loving a woman who didn’t love you back, loving someone so deeply, and having to take her away from you, from your friend Scott. It hurt you so much and you would have never looked at me twice anyway. But I stuck around because you were hurting and I cared, you were so kind to me and helped me even though I know you didn’t want to. You did it anyway. And I grew to love you.

Then Jean was gone, and maybe I had a shot, but even then I was scared. Then the mansion… everyone died… and you fell further into yourself, Logan. You were so deep into your hurt that I was afraid you’d never come back. And yet, I stayed, what else would I do? Abandon you? Never, I’d hate myself for it. I tortured myself for years for you and I don’t even know why!”

The silence in the Honda only grew beside the gentle sounds of your sniffles, and you tried your best to cover those sounds as well as you stared out the window, wishing he'd just drive as fast as he could so you'd reach your destination and not have to continue this conversation. But to your dismay, the car skidded to a halt, and you both almost flew forward. You spun to look at him, to scold him for driving so carelessly, but the face he gave you was too heartbreaking.

You hadn’t realized the loud tone in which you spoke, the tears that spilled down your face, or the way Logan was looking at you as if he could have walked off a cliff and would have been better for it.

Logan sighed and shook his head, trying to find the words, only to stumble over them and remain awkwardly silent. His mouth opened to speak only to close, he was getting nowhere. “Why?” He finally asked.

“Why what?” you asked with a sigh.

“You just couldn’t love someone who wasn’t a total fuck up, could you? Couldn’t have chosen better for yourself,” he grumbled as he leaned back in the seat, his hands still gripping the steering wheel.

He looked away and swallowed hard. “Why me?” He asked. “There ain’t shit to love about me, kid, never was.”

“Yet you loved Jean, your love was unwavering despite her loving Scott,” you pointed out. “What does it matter why or who? My heart was yours and that’s that, Logan.”

“I wish I knew why I’d chosen you, but I couldn’t stop it, I tried. So many people saw it, you know, the way I looked at you. They all warned me, they told me not to even think about it. And stupid me, I waited for you! I was stupid enough to think you would realize that she wasn’t going to give you what you wanted and maybe, just maybe… I could.”

He sighed again, not daring to look at you right now so he could think, and the pain within him was welling up faster than ever. He ached for you, for the chances you could’ve had in life, but instead you chose him, the fucking Wolverine. He sat in complete silence, leaving you to sit there, lost in your own thoughts.

“I’m sorry, forget I said any of this, Logan, I shouldn’t have come here… I’m.. Forget it.” You unclicked your seatbelt and slid from it, then opened the door, which made Logan being to panic.

He’d sit idly by for too long, this complicated thing you had for him, the complicated mess he shared with Jean… But she wasn’t here anymore, you were, and you always had been. That meant something to him despite him not wanting to admit that. “Star, wait,” he said as he followed you from the car, whipping around to the other side to grab your arm.

You spun to look at him, your eyes red and bloodshot from the crying, and it had been ages since he truly looked at you. He grumbled at the sight of you, how truly tired you looked, and having to see how you looked at him stung. You still had that admiration, very little of it now, but it was there, along with exhaustion and hopelessness. You were a bundle of emotions and he felt it was all his fault.

“Shit, I… I wish it wasn’t me you cared about, Star, you didn’t deserve any of this shit.”

“And neither did you, Logan,” you replied softly, staring at him with such vulnerability, giving him a soft smile. Your voice was so laced with pain that it almost made the man flinch.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he growled in annoyance.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Wonder where I get that from,” I said with a small hint of playfulness. It was a vicious cycle of loving him, hating him, forgiving him. You knew it was wrong and toxic, but you never thought twice about it.

“I can guess,” he mumbled with a sliver of that old sarcastic Logan shining through. “Listen, I’m… I’m sorry for all the shit I put you through, even the shit I didn’t know about,” he said, which was amazing to hear an apology come from him. “You love a broken old man who couldn’t even be there for his people, his friends, and you’re still here, you’re either just as stupid as I am or…”

“Or hopelessly in love with you,” you said softly, staring at him with tears threatening to fall again.

Logan clenched his jaw, the gruff badass mask he wore slipping from him, revealing a hint of the same vulnerability you showed him. “You really think I deserve that after all that’s happened? How I dragged you down with me because of my fuck up? I’m not a good man.”

“I don’t care what you think you deserve, you do deserve happiness. Maybe if I wasn’t such a scared child all those years ago, you would have realized it sooner and none of this would have happened,” you explained. “You’ve been through shit not many would live through, and you didn’t deserve any of it, but you deserve to have someone love you without repercussions, without worry.”

Logan couldn’t help but flinch at your impassioned words, the sincerity and conviction in your voice was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to argue, to protest, but there was a small part of him that knew you were right; that he had been through hell and back, and just maybe he did deserve something better than he thought.

Everyone saw him as an animal, the Wolverine, and he made sure to keep that reputation so no one could ever hurt him. But hurting you wasn’t what he wanted. You were here saying all of this to him, but no matter what happened, there would always be that little voice playing in the back of his mind telling him that someone like him could never have that life or that love.

You finally stepped toward him, ignoring the screaming in your mind as you pushed past that hesitancy, staring into his eyes as he continued to wear that scowl. But the closer you got, the more his features softened. “What you’ve been through Logan, it doesn’t define you, but what you’ve been through has driven you to become the man you are. We all have to live with mistakes we’ve made, and I’m tired of running from the good things, aren’t you?”

He looked down at you and clenched his jaw, staring into your eyes as he searched for anything to say to push you away, to show you he wasn’t deserving of this, but he fell short and remained silent.

Your hand reached out and didn’t hesitate this time as you placed it on his arm, leaning closer toward him as you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to reach, but you hadn’t expected Logan to greet you halfway. The fear in his eyes spoke volumes but so did his actions, and you couldn’t help but smile as your lips finally met.

The dreams you had of this day were nothing in comparison to the real dead, feeling his facial hair tickle your skin as you pulled him flush against you, your arms wrapped around his neck while your desperation and passion burst through. It started out gentle and sweet, but it grew hungrier while his large arms finally wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him effortlessly. When he pulled away, panting and breathless, you could see the inner turmoil he struggled with, but you’d be there to ground him. His eyes are hooded and glazed over with desire, and fear, but he can’t help but grin at the sight of you smiling up at him.

“You sure you ain’t makin’ a mistake?” He asked.

You just scoffed and pushed him against the car, surprising him with the amount of force you used. “I’ve thought of nothing but you for so long, Logan, I think we’re beyond making mistakes,” you explained as you pulled him back into a kiss. He was like putty in your hands the more you touched him through the outfit, always thinking he looked damn good in yellow and blue.

Logan couldn’t hide the growing want he felt as he could feel your hands slowly feeling everywhere, but he needed to hold back or else he wasn’t sure what would happen. “You’re drivin’ me to a point I might lose control,” he pointed out, his breath becoming heavier with each finger you skated across his arms.

“As if I don’t know the consequences,” you laughed and reached up to grab the collar of his suit, pulling him down further against your lips. “But you are wearing a bit too much right now for my taste, Logan,” you whispered, your nose gently touching his.

He was about to question you as to why you were wanting to do this now, but what kind of asshole would he be to push you away again, especially now that you both had this time to yourselves. Instead of pushing this away, he pushed you away from him and threw the back door to the Honda open, ushering you to remove your suit. Without question, you did as he asked and began to strip, watching the way he looked at you as you did so, but you made sure not to take up too much time. If you all made it out of here alive, maybe you could both take things slow for another round…

“Damn,” Logan breathed as he stared at you while you threw your suit off into the front seat, but you were greeted with Logan’s body pushing against yours as you lay pinned beneath him, halfway hanging out of the car. He saw the underwear you had on and his claws immediately came out with a sharp whoosh, but you placed your hand on his arm and shook your head.

“I need to wear these until we get the hell out of here. When we get back, you can shred all the ones I have,” you promised with a grin, and his claws immediately retracted.

“Good point, but I’ll hold you to that promise,” he warned as his large hands slid up and cupped your breasts through your bra, his grip rough and possessive as he left your body on fire wherever he touched.

Your heart was pounding as you finally had what you’d always dreamed of, and the sounds that spilled from your lips were melodious to the mutant, he wanted to hear you get louder, so he made sure to work through his unease and make sure you were crying out his name for all to hear in the Void. You bucked your hips upward as his fingers slipped under the hem of your panties, yanking them down without a second thought, and you released a strangled cry once his knuckle gently slid against your clit. You bit your lip, wanting to withhold anything, for now, not wanting Logan to know just how easy it would be to get you to crumble. Any touch he’d graced you with almost made your body tense, feeling lost in anything he’d give you. Even if he were to allow his hands to roam your body without fucking you, you’d probably come just like that.

Logan picked up on this, smelling your arousal as you lay beneath him, his grip tightening on your hips as he stared at your face, already blissed out and wanton with need. “Fuck, you’re killin’ me, here,” he growled as he lowered his mouth to your belly, kissing it to try and curb the absolute feral need that bubbled within him. The simplest kiss and you moaned out his name, your hips bucking involuntarily at his touch. “Yeah, that’s it, fuckin’ say my name,” he commanded as he shifted above you, feeling his length pushing uncomfortably against his suit. “Fuck.”

He stepped back from you, releasing your body as you groaned from the lack of his touch, but your head snapped up to watch as he began to remove his suit this time. Carefully each piece came off, still wanting to keep the reminder of who he was before everything nice and neat, piling them into the front seat with yours. Logan fished himself from his underwear, revealing what you always thought would be impressive to be much more than that. His head dripped with pre-come as he stepped closer, and all you wanted was for him to be buried inside of you.

You lick your lips as your mouth waters for him, but now isn’t the time to explore, you need him inside of you before anything else. “Logan, please,” you begged.

“Please what, sweetheart?” His voice was low, husky, dripping with animalistic lust. “You need to use your words.”

You made a face up at him, knowing he was enjoying teasing you like this, now knowing the hold he had on you as you stared up at him. “Logan, c’mon, I need you,” you whined. “Need to feel you so badly…” You pawed at his arms as he crawled on top of you, his snarky grin never once leaving his face.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered low, and it left you in a puddle after hearing that. He smelled the strong scent of desire on you, it was impossible not to, so to get you prepped, he slid two large fingers inside of you, spreading your slick against your folds as you bucked your hips again, wanting more. With each pump of his fingers, your muscles tensed, your walls clenched with need around them as his pace was unwavering to get you ready to take him.

You couldn’t control the shake that spread in your limbs or the desire that laced the sound of your moans, but you knew that you didn’t want to release yourself on his fingers, as pleasurable as it sounded. You pulled away from his mouth, leaning your forehead on his as you tried to speak. “Logan, please,” you begged again, knowing he was working you up. “I need you inside of me.”

This made a large smirk grow across his face as he slid his fingers out of you, watching as your body twitched from the loss, and he slid those soaked fingers into his mouth. Seeing him cleaning the coat of slick with his tongue was more erotic than you could have imagined, knowing all of the dirty thoughts you had about Logan over the time you’d known and wanted him could never live up to the real thing. His hands ran up your legs, skating across your calves as he yanked your body toward him with a swift pull, his eyes taking in the sight of your body beneath his, smiling when he saw your inner thighs completely dripping with need as his nostrils flared.

“I’m gonna enjoy this…” he mumbled.

“Not as much as I will,” you said seriously, no playfulness in your tone, but a solid truth.

Your legs spread for him without question as his hands assisted you, palms on your knees as he spread you far so he could slot himself between you, pushing his throbbing cock against your folds, smiling wide as you gasped and pushed yourself into him, allowing him to coat himself with your need. You no longer had to pretend your fingers were his, spreading you open as he was about to do, the real thing right above you as he guided himself inside. Logan didn’t give you a chance to adjust and instead, he sinks himself deep into your cunt with a hard thrust, knowing he’d get those pretty sounds out of you.

He was right. You cried out his name as your hands grabbed at his arms, trying to cling to something to keep you grounded. “Holy shit,” you said through gritted teeth, already shaking from the sheer force.

The pace he was was hard and steady, not going too quick to make sure you both got what you wanted from this as his force rocked the car back and forth. Your cries and moans only fed his ego, wanting to give you exactly what you’d been dreaming of, although he figured getting fucked in the back of a car wasn’t exactly your first choice, he wouldn’t deny that it was the best time they’d get in case something did go wrong. One hand was beside your head, holding himself up while the other was gripping hard at the front seat, his fingers digging into the material as he was relentlessly pounding into you.

Your head rolls to the side, wanting to press your lips anywhere against his skin as you kiss his arm over and over, clinging to him while his entire body feels as if it surrounded you. You felt safe in this moment while he split you open, the sting of him stretching you for the first time while the coiling pleasure built within your stomach so quickly. You didn’t notice the shiver your kisses sent up Logan’s spine, but he made sure you knew how you were affecting him.

“You’re so damn tight,” he praised, lowering his mouth to yours for a sloppy, hungry kiss.

You took his bottom lip between your teeth and teased him, wrapped your legs around him tighter as you arched your back, your body pressing flush against his as you moaned against his lips. The head of his cock is pushing so deep inside of you, bruising that soft spot to oblivion as your head falls back from the kiss, trying to use your words to the best of your abilities.

“Logan, I-I’m gonna come,” you whined as you tried your best to hold onto him, your mind going blank as you could only focus on the building pleasure and the tight wound feeling you felt in your belly.

“Come then, sweetheart,” he instructed as he pressed his chest against yours, allowing his body to feel closer to you while he leaned his head against your shoulder, taking in your scent. “Need you to show me what I’ve been missin’ out on,” he said with a smirk.

Your lips peppered his shoulder with kisses as he still mercilessly pounded into you, but the sudden feeling of your teeth sinking into his skin caused the man to let out an feral growl beside your ear as his pace was frantic and unrelenting. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as you bit down hard as your cunt clenched around his pulsing cock, pulling him as deep as he could manage while you milked him as you came.

Logan let out another growl, his breath heavy as he mumbled a string of curses beside your ear while his claws sprang out at the same time he’d come inside of you, piercing the back and the front seat of the Honda, one set incredibly close to your head, but you didn’t flinch whatsoever. You were so wrapped up in this, in him, and your high that he allowed you to ride that nothing else in the world mattered. He retracted his claws again as he sat back, kneeling on one leg as the other hung out of the car, and all he could do was stare down at you, his eyes raking over your figure as your chest rose and sank heavily, the little bruising he left across your skin. He matched the smile that you wore, and he almost felt slightly timid under the gaze you shot him, one so filled with adoration and love, feelings he didn’t deserve from someone like you.

He reluctantly pulled from you, getting one more sweet sound from your lips as he stuffed himself back into his underwear, then sat in the backseat and pulled your legs onto his lap. “I hope that was worth the wait,” he mumbled softly as he gently placed his hand on your thigh, feeling the pads of his fingertips glide against the softness.

“Even better, you’ve exceeded expectations,” you said softly followed by a small laugh, your arm placed over your head as you looked up at him. “I hope this means you’ll consider my offer from earlier, you know, when we get back.”

He let out a low sigh and stared at you, trying to read your expression. “You still think this ain’t a mistake?” He asked you, his voice low and deep with a hint of hope. He was afraid to push this any further in case you came to your senses and wanted something better for yourself.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you pushed yourself up, smiling wide at the man who had your heart for years, your palm resting gently against his cheek. “I meant every word I said today, Logan, and if you still need convincing, I’ll remind you every damn day that I’m not going anywhere. I love you.” You pushed yourself up, nuzzling your face against the crook of his neck, showing him that hint of softness that he deeply craved.

He sighed as he slipped an arm around you, holding your naked form against him as he relaxed beneath your touch. “Then I guess I have a lot of time to make up for,” he said with a smirk.

You nodded and shot him a similar smile. “Guess you do.”

“Let me start right now,” he purred against your hair, taking in your scent as he pushed you back against the seat, hovering his body above yours. “I’m not wantin’ to stop just yet.”

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loganhowlettshousewife · 1 month ago

Text

animal

chapter 1

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: non-sexual nudity, swearing, some sexual-ish thoughts

series masterlist │my masterlist

you had been baking a pie, rolling out the homemade dough for the crust, humming along with the soft music playing through the house, when through the open window you’d seen him. a large man, as naked as the day he was born, running towards your farm. you could only watch in numb shock as he went into your barn, now hidden from view.

what the fuck.

you haven’t been inside that barn in over a year. the farm belonged to your grandparents, and you’d inherited the property after they died. while you love the peace and quiet that came from living in the middle of nowhere, you aren’t a farm girl, so the barn went largely unused.

you think about just leaving the man alone, hoping that he’ll leave eventually.

you keep rolling out the dough, soothing repetitive motions, while you stare at the barn, expecting something else to happen. but nothing does. you almost think you made the man up in a moment of insanity.

it’s this that gets you to finally exit the house, anxiously heading towards the old barn with its creaking wood and chipped paint. you take a deep breath to prepare yourself before stepping inside, every nerve in your body screaming at you that this is a very bad idea.

you’re both relieved and not when you see the man curled up in a corner. relieved, because you weren’t going insane, and not because, well, now you’re going to have to deal with this strange situation.

you take a step closer when he doesn’t lunge at you to attack, then immediately jump back at the gleaming metal claws that appear from between his knuckles. one second he seems mostly harmless - or at least as harmless as a buff, six foot tall man could be - and the next he’s growling at you, face twisted into a snarl, body tense and ready to pounce at the slightest wrong move.

“hi,” you say, softly, the way you were taught to speak to distressed animals. the man cocks his head to the side but doesn’t lunge at you, which you take as a good sign. “i won’t hurt you, promise. but i am curious to know what led you here.”

by here, you mean both the physical location of your house in the middle of nowhere but also whatever reason he has for running through said middle of nowhere naked. there’s some kind of story there, likely not a good one judging by the way he watches you distrustfully. you have a feeling he hasn’t had a good or easy life.

the man doesn’t answer, not that you really expected him to, but slowly his claws retreat back into his skin. he’s marginally less threatening like this, though you know the smallest thing could bring the sharp blades back out.

despite this, you don’t believe he’s a danger to you. he just seems scared and confused.

“are you hungry?” you ask him. again, he doesn’t answer, and you wonder if he’s able to speak. “okay, how about this, i’ll bring you food and you don’t have to eat it but you can. i’ll be right back.”

you don’t turn your back on the barn, on him, as you jog back into your house. it’s much warmer inside than it is in the barn - you were so distracted that you hadn’t been feeling the full effect of the early winter cold. you think of the man, he must be freezing, but you hadn’t seen any sign of it, no shivering, not even goosebumps raising on his skin.

one thing at a time, you tell yourself.

your half-finished pie is sitting discarded on the kitchen counter and you look at it mournfully. you’ll finish it later, and maybe you’ll actually have someone to enjoy it with you.

(it gets lonely sometimes, so far from any cities or towns. usually, you don’t mind it, but apparently there’s some small part of you that still desperately craves human contact and interaction, since you’re jumping at the chance to take care of a random stranger.)

you have leftovers in the fridge that you suppose will have to do, since making him a fresh, home-cooked meal would take time, and you’d promised to return hastily. you heat it up quickly, the warmth emanating from the food another reminder of the frigid temperature outside as you bring the plate into the barn.

he looks up when you enter, sniffing the air like a dog. it’s cute, and you smile as you put the plate down, careful not to get too close to him, letting him make the first move.

whether he trusts you or he’s just starving you don’t know, but he rushes to your side and starts eating like he hasn’t had food in a month. with him distracted and closer to you, you can get a better look at him.

he doesn’t look malnourished. he’s buff, muscular and hairy, and you have to stop your eyes from going lower as you stare at his chest.

you look away despite the man being too distracted to notice your shameless ogling. he might be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life - or you’ve just been away from men for too long and have become pathetic.

he eats quickly, and looks up expectantly at you when he finishes, like a dog at their owner. you giggle at the comparison you’ve made in your head - it’s quite accurate, you find, with the way he immediately seems to trust you now that you’ve fed him.

“do you wanna go inside? it’s pretty cold out here, and inside i have more food.” you say, and when you go to stand up so does he. you explicitly do not look down.

he follows you into your house, and you’re so glad you live alone so there’s no one to question whatever is happening.

it’s easy to find extra clothes in the guest room, less easy to find any that you think will fit him. eventually, you give up, hoping the sweatpants you found will do for now, and grab one of your own shirts, thankful for your habit of buying oversized men’s t-shirts. it goes down to your thighs, surely it’ll fit him.

you turn to head back into the living room where you left him, and your soul nearly leaves your body when you spot him standing at the door. you yelp, your hand flying to your chest and the clothes falling to the ground.

he startles at the noise, tensing and looking around like he expects danger.

“shit,” you swear, “how are you so quiet?”

he frowns, and you could swear that he seems apologetic, though you aren’t sure how accurate your interpretations of his facial expressions are given that you’ve only known him for about an hour. it makes you feel a little guilty, though really you shouldn’t be since he snuck up on you.

you’re about to offer him the clothes when you pause, gaze locked on his chest. “you should shower.”

he follows you when you lead him to the bathroom, which you take as agreement on his part. he’s dirty, covered everywhere by a thin layer of dirt. a shower will feel good. it would also give you time to process this without him watching you. his eyes are quite intense, and he keeps them directed at you. you need the privacy to freak out.

it’s only after you place the clothes down on the countertop and show him how the knobs in your shower work that you realise he’s not making any moves to enter the shower. you start to leave the bathroom and he takes a step to follow you.

you stop, thinking about how he doesn’t seem to know how to speak, how he looked so scared and confused when you’d found him, and you sigh when you realise it’s likely he doesn’t know how to use a shower either.

what is your story? you think to yourself.

“do you want help?” is what you ask instead.

he nods slowly, which is the closest you’ve gotten to a response from him so far. you look up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply and bracing yourself when you realise this means you’re going to have to touch the hot, naked man.

you turn on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before you motion for the man to get in. you are absolutely not willing to get naked in the shower with a stranger whose name you don’t even know, so you step in fully clothed, already regretting it when you feel the fabric growing wet and sticking to your skin.

it’s as you’re helping rinse the dirt off him that you spot the writing on his dog tags. you’d noticed them previously but hadn’t been able to get a good look.

you take the metal chain in your hand, turning it to read the name stamped into the metal.

“logan,” you read, and the man in front of you purrs, a low rumble in his throat. you smile. “i’m going to guess that’s your name. logan.”

this seems to relax the last dredges of tension that he holds. he practically melts into you, and the feeling of being trusted so fully by someone who seems so broken warms your heart in a way that you haven’t felt in years.

you finish washing him up in silence, only interrupted by occasional soft purrs and hums from logan. he quite enjoys it when you wash his hair, hands reaching up to scrub shampoo into the strands, nails scratching at his scalp. you switch your earlier comparison from a dog to a cat, the purring reminding you of the kitten you had growing up.

he shakes his head when he gets out of the shower, water flying everywhere, and you laugh as you hand him a towel. you once again have to help him when he just stares at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

he gets dressed on his own, thankfully, since you already feel like you might implode from being in such close quarters with an extremely attractive, wet, nude man for so long.

you leave him for a minute to dry yourself off and change into dry clothes. it’s nice to have a moment of reprieve, where you can simply breathe and process and question what the fuck you just got yourself into. you finally allow yourself to freak out a tiny bit, muttering to yourself in the mirror, tugging at your hair.

you just manage to pull a shirt over your head when you hear quiet whimpering at the door and the sound of loud banging against it.

your heart breaks at the sound, reminded of the wounded animals your grandparents would nurse back to health, and you rush to pull some pants on so you can open the door. logan looks at you with the most devastated eyes and then falls into you, face nudging into your neck, inhaling deeply. you stumble back, thankful for the wall that catches you. he’s heavier than he looks, which is saying something, given his size.

you’re shocked for a moment, frozen, but quickly come back to yourself and place your hands on his firm back.

“i’m sorry,” you say, “i didn’t mean to scare you. i wasn’t going to leave you, i just needed privacy for a moment.”

you don’t know if he understands anything you’re saying but it makes you feel better to explain yourself. you’re shocked that this is the same man who was snarling at you, claws out and ready to rip your throat out not so long ago, shocked at how quickly he’s grown attached to you.

shocked at how quickly you’ve grown attached to him, too. then again, you’ve always been this way. you like to help people, and logan seems like a man who needs a lot of help.

“i was baking a pie, when i saw you,” you tell him, “how about we go finish that? you don’t have to leave my side. you can watch me and i’ll teach you all my secrets.”

and as you expected, he follows you into the kitchen, trailing after you like a lost puppy. normally, you hate having anyone else in the kitchen with you, getting in your way when you’re in the zone, but his presence is nice. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t distract you or get in your way, just stands and watches you intently.

you’re already used to having him here with you, comfortable enough to turn your back to him. it’s crazy, and a (big) part of you knows that this isn’t exactly a smart thing to do, but you’re already planning on letting him stay for as long as he needs, maybe even forever.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams

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cowboybeepboop · 3 months ago

Text

Needy

"You sure about that, darlin'?" he murmurs, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. "Doesn't seem like you wanna concentrate on work anymore."

Pairing: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett x fem! Reader��

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: After nearly getting caught with Logan by your brother, you try to get some work done but Logan has different plans.

Warnings: Oral fem receiving, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, p in v sex, semi public.

a/n: This is technically a part two to my earlier Logan fic, but it can be read on its own. I’ll leave the link down below if you wanna read it first. Also I just feel like he'd be so into just constantly eating you out, eating like it's his last meal. As always I hope you enjoy and send any requests you have my way! <3

The first hint of dawn painted the horizon a soft pink as the weight of his arm grew heavier across your waist. Logan's hand trailed down your spine, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps as they danced along your skin. You stirred from the warm cocoon of sleep, the lingering scent of him—a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely his—enveloping you.

The room was still, save for the occasional sigh escaping your lips in response to his touch. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze, and you found yourself lost in the depth of his blue eyes, which sparkled with a gentle mischief in the dim light. He smirked, knowing he had woken you, and leaned in closer to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

With a gentle urgency, Logan pushed you against the mattress, his strong body sliding between your parted legs. You felt the heat of his morning arousal as he aligned himself with your welcoming warmth. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he entered you, filling you in one smooth, deliberate stroke.

Your nails dug into the taut muscles of his back, leaving dark marks that stood out against his skin, a silent testament to your desire. His eyes never left yours, a silent communication of passion and need passing between you as he began to move, setting a rhythm that echoed the racing of your heart.

The world outside the confines of the bedroom melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the symphony of breath and touch, your bodies moving as one beneath the soft, early-morning light. A knock on your door catches your attention instantly, Logan thrusts his hips into yours, ignoring the interruption.

“Y/N?” Your brother's voice is slightly worried as he knocks again. The moment is interrupted as your brother's voice rings out through the door, bringing you both back to reality. Logan growls in frustration, clearly not pleased with the interruption.

His gaze lingers on you, a mixture of lust and irritation as he pauses his movements. "He's got damn terrible timing," he mutters, his voice a low grumble against your skin.

“Logan, hide.” you whisper softly, pointing to your closet. Logan grumbles in annoyance, clearly not thrilled at having to hide like a teenager caught making out by his girlfriend's parents.

"Fine," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "I'll hide in the damn closet." He untangles himself from you and climbs off the bed, grumbling under his breath as he heads to the closet, making a show of his irritation.

You slip back into your clothes, smoothing your hair as you open the door. “Scott.” you smile at him.

Scott steps into the room, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. He eyes you for a moment, taking in your disheveled appearance, the flush in your cheeks.

"Everything okay, Y/N? You’re usually up earlier than this." he asks, his voice laced with a subtle hint of interrogation.

“Yes, of course.” you smile awkwardly, hand going to your neck as you notice him scanning the room, you try to hide the faint bruise from him.

Scott's gaze settles on you as he notices the faint handprint on your neck. It's a subtle mark, but it doesn't escape his sharp eyes.

"What's that on your neck?" he asks, his voice slightly harder now, concern edging into accusation.

“It’s nothing,” his fingers reach out to brush your hand away.

“Let me see.” Scott replies firmly, you reluctantly allow him to look at your neck, his calloused fingers still on your skin.

"This looks like something more than 'nothing'," he states firmly, his eyes now fixed on you with an intense scrutiny.

“Scott, it’s nothing. But you should leave so I can get ready..” you murmur.

His hand falls from your neck as he turns to leave. “Okay, I’ll bring you breakfast to the infirmary.” he replies, leaving the room, you close the door behind him with a relieved sigh.

Once the door closes, Logan steps out of the closet. His gaze finds yours, a mix of possessiveness and worry in his eyes. He approaches you quietly, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to examine the faint bruise his hand left.

“It’s not so bad anymore,” you reassure him, fingers going to his wrist. He can still see the faint mark his rough grip left on your skin, and it ignites a small spark of guilt and possessiveness within him.

"Yeah," he mutters, his gaze shifting to the floor. You lead him into the hallway, hand in hand as you lead him toward the clinic room.

Just as you’re nearing the infirmary you see Scott’s back, quickly dropping Logan's hand as he turns to you. Jean is at his side, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the two of you walking together.

Scott raises an eyebrow at the sight of you and Logan together. There's a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, his gaze bouncing between the two of you. Jean is more observant – her gaze immediately narrows at the sight of you both, picking up on the tension between you.

You gesture for him to go back to the clinic room, Logan does as you direct him to. Scotts gaze locks in on the faint and fading marks on his back, his head turning to face you, clearly suspicious.

Scott's eyes narrow at the sight of the faded marks on Logan's back, his suspicions growing. He turns to face you, his gaze intense and searching.

"Those marks..." he begins, gesturing to Logan's back, "they look like claw marks to me." you ignore your brother's comment, cheeks turning pink as you hurry after Logan.

“Y/N.” Scott’s voice is firm as he follows behind you, “Where did you find him?”

“In the hallway..” you murmur, keeping your back to him as he questions you.

Scott's suspicion continues to grow as you remain vague, avoiding his direct gaze. His eyes narrow at your answer, clearly not satisfied.

"In the hallway? Just wandering around, huh?" he presses, his tone laced with skepticism. "That's a bit unusual, don't you think?"

“What are you suggesting?” you cross your arms under your chest.

Scott's eyes narrow in on your defensive gesture, his mind racing as he connects the dots. He thinks back to your flustered appearance when he found you, the marks on your neck, and now the strange encounter in the hallway.

His suspicion grows, his eyes now drilling into you. "You're hiding something," he states firmly, his tone leaving no room for denial

“I’m not hiding anything.” you protest, voice raising in pitch with your lie.

You glance over to Logan, silently pleading for him to help you, to back up your lie. He catches your gaze and gives a subtle nod, stepping forward.

"She's not hiding anything." Logan chimes in, his voice as gruff as ever, but with an underlying firmness to it. "We just happened to bump into each other in the hallway. Nothing unusual." Scott raises an eyebrow at Logan's reply, his suspicion growing even stronger. He glances between the two of you, his eyes narrowing further.

"Just happened to bump into each other, huh?" he repeats, his tone dripping with skepticism. "You're telling me that's all that happened?" Logan's eyes flash with an unspoken challenge as Scott presses further, his protective and possessive nature emerging.

"She's an adult," he growls, his voice gruff and unapologetic. "She can do whatever she wants. It's none of your damn business.”

You step between the two of them, pressing a hand to your brother's chest, urging him to back off. “Scott, all that matters is he’s not missing anymore, right?”

Scott's frustration is palpable as you step between them, your hand on his chest a clear sign for him to back off. He lets out a frustrated sigh, his eyes darting between you and Logan.

"I... guess you have a point," he relents, his expression still skeptical. "But I'm keeping an eye on you two," he adds, his gaze lingering on Logan for a moment before falling on you again.

“Right, of course.” you grin, he mumbles something about getting Logan something to cover up with, leaving the room with his arms crossed.

Scott leaves the room with a huff, clearly still suspicious but unable to do anything about it right now.

Once he's gone, Logan turns to you, a small smirk on his face. "You know he's not buyin' our story for a second, sweetheart."

“I know,” you whine, hands covering your flushed cheeks. “It's so embarrassing..” Despite the situation, Logan can't help but chuckle at your flushed cheeks and whiny tone. Seeing you so flustered is adorable to him, despite the circumstances.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," he teases, taking a step closer to you.

“You think so?” your hands fall from your cheeks as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

Logan grins as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you against his chest, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Yeah," he mutters, his voice a low rumble. "All flushed and cute. Makes me want to do all kinds of things to you."

You gasp quietly as he closes the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. The kiss starts sweet and gentle, but quickly deepens as Logan's possessiveness takes over. His hand on your waist tightens, pulling you closer against him as his tongue slips into your mouth.

He kisses you hungrily, his lips and tongue exploring yours as if he can't get enough of you. Your fingers dig into his side as you moan into his mouth, his hand traveling down your waist to your hip bone.

Your moan is like a catalyst, igniting a fire within Logan. His hand on your hip tightens, his fingers pressing into your flesh as he pulls you even closer.

He kisses you deeper, his tongue claiming your mouth as he pulls you against his body. The heat between you grows, his need for you becoming more apparent as his hand moves lower on your hip.

You pull away, gasping for air. “Logan..” you press your palms into his sides. “We shouldn’t, I have work to do.” you murmur as his lips move to your neck.

Logan groans in frustration, his lips reluctantly pulling away from your neck to meet your eyes. "Work can wait," he growls, his voice a rough rumble against your skin.

His grip on your hip tightens as he presses his body against yours, leaving no room for protest. "I want you, darlin'. I don't care 'bout your damn work right now."

“Not now,” you push him back slightly as you adjust your clothes. “You're insatiable.” Logan growls in frustration again, reluctantly taking a step back from your touch. He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes roaming over you.

"Can you blame me?" he retorts, his voice still gruff. "With you lookin' like that? All flushed and gorgeous. Makes it damn hard to keep my hands off of you." you walk past him, sitting at the desk in the corner.

“Why don’t you come sit over here..” you smile sweetly, not really wanting him too far away from you. Logan raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, a small smirk on his lips. He saunters over to you, crossing the space between you in a few long strides.

He plops down in the chair next to you, leaning back casually as he looks at you. "This better?" he teases, his voice a rumble.

A couple hours pass with you typing away, Logan watching your every move. Despite your attempts to concentrate on your work, you can't ignore the feeling of Logan's hand on your bare thigh. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, making it difficult to focus on the task at hand.

His fingers push past the hem of your skirt, his touch slowly going higher, igniting a heat within you that's impossible to ignore.

You steal a glance at him, his eyes fixated on you, his gaze intense and hungry. “Logan, I can’t concentrate.” your legs spread for him slightly, you place your hand on his stopping his movements.

Logan smiles at you, his hand slowly moving higher up your thigh. His fingers brush against the edge of your panties, the feather light touch sending jolts of electricity through your body.

He can see the effect he's having on you, your breath hitching in your throat as he watches you intently. "You're makin' this real hard, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

You lean back in your chair, head falling back. “Logan, please.”

Logan swallows the lump in his throat as you lean back in your chair, the sight of you so utterly helpless and wanting sending a wave of lust through him.

He leans closer to you, his breath hot against your ear. "You want me to stop, darlin'?" he whispers, his fingers still tracing light patterns on your inner thigh.

“Yes, I should concentrate.” You shake your head no, yet your words say the opposite.

A smile tugs at the corners of Logan's lips as you reply, your words saying one thing but your body another. He can sense your desire, your body quivering under his touch, your breath hitching in your throat.

He kneels in front of you, his head nestled between your thighs, his lips brushing against your skin. "You sure about that, darlin'?" he murmurs, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. "Doesn't seem like you wanna concentrate on work anymore."

Your fingers find his hair, tangling in the strands. “I really need to focus,” your head falls back as a quiet moan escapes your parted lips at the feel of his breath on your thighs.

Logan lets out a low growl, enjoying the feeling of your fingers in his hair, pulling at strands. He can tell you're trying hard to resist the temptation he's presenting, but your body is betraying you, your hips arching slightly towards him.

He grins as he hears the soft moan escape your lips, his eyes locked on yours. "Then why are your hips movin' like that, darlin'? Seems like they're tellin' me somethin' different."

His fingers slip under your panties, pulling them off your legs. “Logan..” you whine his name as he parts your thighs. As he pulls your panties down and parts your thighs, Logan lets out a guttural sound low in his throat, a clear sign of his growing desire.

"That's it, darlin'," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "Just relax. Let me take care of you." Logan's strong hands hold your thighs apart, his gaze unwavering as his lips connect with your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

"Oh, Logan," you moan, your head falling back against the chair. He chuckles darkly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looks up at you.

"Thought you needed to concentrate.” he murmurs, his tongue flicking against your sensitive flesh. You try to focus on the task at hand, but the sensations he's eliciting are too intense, too overwhelming.

Logan's eyes never leave your face, a silent challenge to see how long you can last before giving in to the pleasure he's offering. With a hungry growl, Logan's mouth closes over your folds, his tongue delving deep and swirling around your clit in a relentless rhythm that sends your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him in place as your body jolts into him, each stroke sending a pulse of electricity through your core. The keyboard beneath your fingertips becomes an afterthought as the pressure builds, your breath coming in ragged gasps that echo through the room.

The scent of your arousal fills the air, a heady aphrodisiac that fuels his desire. Work is quickly forgotten as the only thing that matters is the symphony of pleasure he's conducting, your body his willing instrument.

As the tension within you reaches a crescendo, your legs instinctively wrap around Logan's neck, urging him closer, your hips moving in tandem with the rhythm of his mouth. The chair squeaks under the pressure of your movements, the room around you becoming a haze of desire and need.

His tongue flicks and laps at you with an insatiable hunger, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh just enough to make you squirm. You feel the beginnings of your climax building, a coil tightening in your lower belly, as he adds his fingers to the mix, sliding them inside you. The sensation of being filled and teased simultaneously sends you over the edge, and you cry out, your body shuddering with the force of your orgasm.

Logan doesn't miss a beat, his tongue and fingers working in unison to prolong your pleasure, savoring every tremor that runs through you. The world outside the office fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the throes of passion and pleasure.

Withdrawing his mouth from the sweet nectar of your desire, Logan smirks up at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the way your body responds to him, like it's made to tremble under his touch. You're panting, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes glazed over with pleasure.

He loves seeing you this way, so utterly consumed by the passion he stirs within you that you can't even remember why you were supposed to be working. His thumb continues to gently rub circles around your clit, keeping the embers of your climax smoldering.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "So weak for me." His smugness is palpable, but it only makes you want him more.

You lean down, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss, tasting yourself on his lips, and whisper, "More." It's both a plea and a command, one that he's all too eager to obey.

The moment Logan presses his finger inside you, your body responds with a jolt of pleasure, your walls tightening around the intrusion as your orgasm subsides. His mouth moves back to your clit, sucking and teasing it with a newfound urgency as his digit explores the slick depths of your core.

You can feel his thumb circling your entrance, pressing gently against it, hinting at the possibility of a second entry. The dual sensation sends shivers down your spine, making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. All you can manage is a series of incoherent whimpers and gasps as his tongue flicks and his finger moves in a tantalizing rhythm that threatens to send you spiraling over the edge again.

Your hips rock into his touch, riding the wave of pleasure as it builds once more. The room is filled with the sounds of your muffled moans and the wet, intimate noises of his mouth on your flesh. Despite the urgency of your earlier protests, you find yourself eagerly welcoming this new assault, your body craving the release he so expertly coaxes from you. The tension within you builds rapidly, and it's clear that this time, you won't be able to hold back for much longer.

As Logan's finger joins his tongue in their relentless worship of your body, you feel the coil of pleasure tighten in your core once more. The sensation is overwhelming, and before you can even catch your breath from the last orgasm, a new wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Your legs shudder around his neck, and your moans grow louder as he expertly teases you closer to the edge. You bite down on your lower lip to stifle the cries that threaten to escape, but it's no use. Your body arches off the chair, your fingers clutching at his hair, as the second orgasm rips through you with a ferocity that leaves you trembling.

Logan's eyes never leave yours, his own desire flaring as he watches the pleasure claim you, making your pupils dilate and your breath come in panting gasps. His mouth and hand never falter, continuing their sweet torment, drawing out every last tremor of your climax, making sure you're left boneless and utterly satisfied in his arms.

With surprising grace, Logan stands, lifts you up with him, and sits in the chair you've just vacated. You straddle his hips, your legs still shaking slightly from the aftershocks of your climax. He holds you steady, his arms like steel bands around your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as you catch your breath.

His erection presses against you, a clear reminder of his own need, and you can't help but squirm slightly, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. "Easy, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "We're not done yet."

His hands begin to roam over your body, rekindling the embers of desire that still smolder within you. You lean into his touch, your heart racing as you anticipate what comes next. His thumbs trace circles around your hardened nipples, his palms cupping your breasts as he leans in for another kiss, his tongue seeking yours with a hunger that hasn't been sated.

The world around you is a blur, your senses focused solely on the feel of his body against yours, the taste of him in your mouth, the scent of sex and sweat in the air. You're putty in his arms, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

The sight of Logan's arousal standing tall and proud only serves to stoke the fires of your own desire. You bite your lip, the anticipation of feeling him inside you again making your pulse race. With a sense of urgency that's become second nature to you both, he pulls himself free from his pants, his length brushing against your wetness.

You lean forward, eager to sheath him within your body, and with a gentle push, you lower yourself onto his shaft. Logan's eyes never leave yours as you take him in, his hands gripping your hips tightly to guide your movements. His hips buck upwards, meeting you as you sink down on him, a low groan escaping his throat as you adjust to his size.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your nails digging into his shoulders for balance as you begin to move, the heat between you growing with every thrust. His cock fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, and you can't help but gasp into his mouth as your bodies move in a dance as old as time itself.

The chair beneath you creaks under the weight of your passion, the sound a testament to the intensity of the moment. You move in unison, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy, your hips grinding against his as you seek that perfect angle, that sweet spot that will send you spiraling over the edge once more.

Logan's breathing is ragged, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches the pleasure play out on your face. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, words of love and desire that only serve to drive you wilder. And as you find that perfect rhythm, as your bodies become one, you know that there's nowhere else you'd rather be than here, with him, in this stolen moment of passion in the early morning light.

With a primal growl, Logan's hips surge upward, driving his hard length into your welcoming warmth. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping and kissing as his hands guide your hips in a rhythm that matches the rapid beating of your heart.

The chair protests under the vigor of your passionate embrace, adding a symphony of squeaks and creaks to the symphony of gasps and moans that fill the room. His strong arms flex, holding you in place as he takes control, his thrusts growing deeper and more demanding. Each movement sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, making you cling to him tighter, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fight to hold on.

His scent surrounds you, intoxicating and wild, a reminder of the animalistic need that has taken over both of you. His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers dark, filthy words that only serve to stoke the fire within you, pushing you closer to the precipice of a third shattering climax.

The room seems to close in around you, the only reality is the feel of his skin against yours, the sound of your combined breaths, and the pulsing need that demands release. As you move together, you realize that nothing else matters but this moment of raw, unbridled passion, and you're ready to let go of the last vestiges of control and surrender completely to the storm of sensation that he is orchestrating within you.

Logan's hips continue to piston upward, his cock driving into you with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His breath is hot and heavy against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he whispers sweet, filthy nothings that only serve to make you wetter. You lean back, arching your spine, as he nips at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just hard enough to make you moan.

His hands are a vise on your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts into you, claiming you with every powerful stroke. The chair beneath you groans and squeaks, the only sound in the room aside from the symphony of your ragged breaths and the wet slap of skin on skin.

You can feel yourself getting closer, the tension in your belly coiling tighter with every movement. Logan's eyes bore into yours, a silent challenge, as if daring you to hold out against the tide of pleasure threatening to consume you.

As you feel Logan's body tense beneath you, you grind down into him with a renewed fervor, your own orgasm building like a storm within you. His eyes blaze with intensity, his jaw clenched as he fights the urge to let go.

You know he's close, so very close, and the thought of feeling him come apart inside of you sends a thrill through your body. You rock your hips, taking him deeper, your inner walls clenching around him as your climax looms closer. His breaths come in harsh pants, his grip on your hips tightening as he meets your every movement with his own, driving you both towards the edge.

You can see the muscles in his neck strain, the veins bulging with the effort to hold on just a little longer. And then, with a guttural groan, he succumbs to the pleasure, his hips bucking upward as he releases himself into you. The sensation sends you over the edge, your own orgasm cresting and breaking like a wave, your body shaking with the intensity of it.

Logan's arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as you ride the waves of pleasure together, your bodies joined in a dance of passion and release. The room falls away, leaving only the sound of your mingled gasps and the frantic beat of your hearts, echoing the intensity of the moment.

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pandapetals · 10 days ago

Text

Back Off

origins logan howlett x fem!reader - angst, creepy guy, harassment, established relationship, logan being protective, no y/n used, no reader description, soft logan, some fluff

You work at the lumberyard as the secretary, and all the guys like to tease/flirt with you. Except one guy takes it too far, leading to Logan standing up to the guy for you.

a/n: thank you anon for the request!

read on Ao3

The typewriter keys sat waiting beneath your fingertips, but your attention was elsewhere, juggling the phone tucked precariously between your shoulder and ear. Your voice was crisp but strained with professional courtesy as you wrapped the coiled cord around your fingers, a nervous habit you couldn’t quite break.

“Well, that shipment should’ve been here two days ago,” you said, your tone clipped as you shot a glance at the clock on the wall. Its hands seemed to taunt you with their sluggish pace.

The faint creak of the door hinge made you glance up. Logan stepped inside, the scent of sawdust and pine trailing him like a shadow. His shirt clung to his chest, damp with sweat from the afternoon’s hard labor, and dirt smudged across his forearms. He stopped mid-step when your eyes met, a flicker of warmth softening the usually sharp lines of his face. His lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile which he quickly masked.

Your chest tightened, but you swallowed your reaction, pressing the receiver closer to your ear. “My boss isn’t going to be happy to hear that,” you continued, voice steady but lacking its usual bite. Your fingers tightened around the cord.

Logan leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, his flannel shirt stretched taut over his broad frame. He didn’t say a word at first, just watched you in that quiet, brooding way of his. His dark eyes pinned you in place, carrying a weight that made your heart race. The faint furrow between his brows and the way his jaw ticked told you more than he ever would aloud.

“You okay?” His voice was low, carrying that gravelly edge that made it sound like he’d just finished a fight—or was about to start one. The question sounded casual enough, but the tension in his tone was a dead giveaway. He wasn’t asking about the phone call.

You pressed the receiver closer to your ear but covered the mouthpiece with your palm, cutting the conversation off for a moment. A pointed look passed between you. “I’m fine,” you said, softly enough that no one but him could hear.

But Logan didn’t look convinced, and truthfully, you weren’t fine. The delayed shipment had already left you teetering on the edge of frustration, but the day tipped over completely when Bruce from the lumber shed had sauntered in earlier, tossing out a crude comment about how nice you’d look without the office dress code. The memory left a bitter taste in your mouth and a knot twisting in your stomach. You hadn’t said anything about it at the time—you never did—but you knew Logan had heard. The dark glint in his eyes told you as much.

Your glance to the side must’ve given you away because Logan’s nostrils flared slightly, his jaw tightening like a vise. He looked away, but not before you saw the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. He crossed the small room in two steps and grabbed the battered water bottle off the desk, unscrewing the cap with more force than was necessary. He tipped his head back, taking a slow, deliberate swig, but his eyes flicked toward you between gulps. He wasn’t drinking because he was thirsty. He was buying himself a moment to swallow down whatever he wanted to say—or do.

The tension in his shoulders practically radiated off him, and you felt it from across the room. It made the tiny office feel even smaller, as though there wasn’t enough air left for both of you.

You forced yourself to turn your attention back to the phone. “Yes, I’ll make a note of that. Thank you.” The brightness in your voice was as practiced as the steady rhythm of your fingers tapping the edge of the desk. Professional. Calm. Controlled. But beneath it all, your heart pounded too hard, and your stomach was still coiled tight from the weight of Logan’s gaze—and the ghost of Bruce’s earlier comment.

As soon as you hung up, the silence in the room closed in like a heavy fog. You didn’t have to look to know Logan had stepped closer, his presence a tangible thing that wrapped around you like the smell of sawdust on his clothes. It invaded all of your senses.

“They giving you a hard time again?” he asked, voice still calm but lined with an undercurrent of restrained anger.

You sighed, trying for a dismissive wave of your hand. “As always,” you replied, finally daring to meet his eyes. His stare was as steady and relentless as ever. You forced a wry smile and added, “I’m sure if Michael were on the phone, they’d be tripping over themselves to fix it and have the shipment here within the hour.”

Logan’s expression darkened. “That what this is about?” he asked, though his voice was quieter now like he was trying to rein himself in. “The shipment?”

You hesitated, your hand hovering over the desk. “Partly,” you admitted, your gaze shifting to the typewriter as if you could bury the rest of your frustration under the blank page waiting there. “Bruce decided to get creative with his commentary again.”

Logan’s jaw tightened so hard you could almost hear the grind of his teeth. His hand flexed around the water bottle before he set it down, a little too carefully, like he was afraid it might crumple in his grip. “He said something to you?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you said quickly, but the words felt hollow even as they left your lips.

Logan huffed out a humorless laugh, his lips curling into a sneer. “Sure you can,” he said, his tone dripping with that quiet, simmering anger he never seemed to show unless someone had pushed him too far. “Doesn’t mean he should be sayin’ it.”

You didn’t answer, because what could you say? You both knew Bruce was the type to run his mouth until someone shut him up. You also knew what Logan shutting Bruce up would look like—and how that would ripple through the lumber yard.

“Logan—”

“I’m not gonna start anything,” he interrupted, holding up a hand before you could even finish. “But if he doesn’t quit…” He trailed off, leaving the unspoken threat hanging heavy in the air.

Logan took a step closer, leaning down just enough to catch your eye. His voice softened, that gruff protectiveness slipping through. “You tell me if he does it again. Don’t care what the situation is or who’s around. Okay?”

The look in his eyes sent a wave of warmth coursing through you, equal parts frustration and affection. He wasn’t asking for permission to defend you—he was reminding you he could if you needed him to.

You nodded finally, letting out a breath. “Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lingered for a second longer, his hand brushing against the desk like he wanted to reach for yours but thought better of it. Then, with a slow inhale, he turned on his heel and left, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click.

You sat frozen for a moment, staring at the desk where Logan’s hand had rested just minutes ago. The faint warmth of his touch lingered in your memory, even as the tension he left behind coiled in your chest. You let out a heavy sigh, shaking yourself free of the moment, unsure whether you felt more exasperated by his overprotective streak or comforted by it. Maybe both.

Dragging your focus back to the task at hand, you grabbed the phone and dialed into your work. The rhythmic clatter of the typewriter keys soon filled the small office, a steady noise that you clung to like a lifeline. You knew if you let your thoughts wander, they’d drift back to Logan—his brooding gaze, the way his presence seemed to fill the room, the tension in his voice whenever someone crossed a line with you. No, work was safer to think about.

But only a few minutes had passed when the door to the office trailer swung open again, the hinges groaning in protest.

You didn’t bother to look up, hoping it was one of the guys just passing through to grab a clipboard or clock out for the day. The last thing you needed was another interruption.

“Ah, glad I didn’t miss you.” The oily drawl froze your fingers mid-keystroke.

“Thought you’d have gone home by now, honey,” Bruce added as the sickly sweetness in his tone made your stomach turn.

Your jaw tightened, and you forced your hands to keep moving on the typewriter, willing yourself not to react. “We both know I work later than you,” you said, your tone clipped, keeping your eyes fixed firmly on the paper in front of you.

Bruce let out a low chuckle, the kind that always seemed to ooze condescension. You could practically feel the smirk stretching across his face. “Sure do, darlin’,” he said, taking a step closer. “But I work harder. Real hard.”

The way he said it made your skin crawl, the implication heavy in his voice. Your fingers faltered on the typewriter, hitting the wrong key, the sharp clack echoing like an accusation. You straightened in your seat, keeping your gaze locked on the page.

“Good for you, Bruce,” you replied dryly, trying to keep the bite out of your tone. “Guess we’ve all got our talents.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lean against the edge of the desk, too close for comfort. His cologne, heavy and cheap, wafted over you, and you had to fight the urge to wrinkle your nose.

“Aw, come on now,” he said, voice dipping lower. “Don’t be like that. A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be so uptight.”

Your hands stilled completely, hovering over the typewriter keys. Your jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

“I’m not uptight,” you said evenly, finally lifting your gaze to meet his. “I’m busy. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Bruce’s grin didn’t falter, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face. He straightened, shrugging as if your comment had rolled right off his back. “Busy, huh? Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. But if you ever need help with anything…” His gaze raked over you, lingering long enough to make your skin crawl. “You know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” you said evenly, though your voice came out quieter than you would’ve liked. “But I’m good.” You tried to sound firm, but the way he loomed closer—like he thought this was some kind of game—made it hard to keep your voice steady.

Bruce chuckled low, the sound grating against your nerves. “You sure, sweetheart? You’re looking a little tense.” He tilted his head, his grin smug. “Could be you’re working too hard in this little office all by yourself. Maybe you just need someone to... take care of you.”

The words sent a rush of heat to your face, not from embarrassment but from anger. You pushed back slightly in your chair, forcing some distance between you. “I can take care of myself just fine, thanks,” you said, sharper this time.

Bruce’s smirk faltered for a split second, but he recovered quickly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back like he had all the time in the world to pester you.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, his eyes roaming over you. “Still, wouldn’t hurt to have someone like me around, you know? A woman like you shouldn’t have to do it all alone.”

Before you could think of a response sharp enough to cut through his arrogance, the door to the office swung open with a sharp creak.

The sound hit you like a lifeline, and you snapped your head toward the entrance. Relief flooded through you the moment you saw Logan step inside, his broad shoulders filling the doorway like a shield against everything wrong in the world.

He didn’t say anything, but the air in the room shifted. His dark eyes swept over the scene—the way Bruce was standing too close, the tension in your body—and his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitch.

Bruce turned slightly, his smirk fading when he saw Logan. “Hey, man,” he said, attempting to sound casual, but the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him. “Didn’t know you were still around.”

Logan took one slow, deliberate step inside, his boots thudding heavily against the floor. His eyes never left Bruce, sharp and unyielding like the edge of a blade.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Logan said finally, his voice low and even, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “You were just leavin’, weren’t you?”

Bruce chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, sure. Just checking in on her. You know, being neighborly.”

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t say a word, but the silence was louder than anything he could’ve said. It stretched long enough that Bruce shifted uncomfortably, his confidence clearly cracking under the weight of Logan’s stare.

“Right,” Bruce muttered, stepping back toward the door. “See ya tomorrow, sugar,” he added over his shoulder, flashing you one last grin before slipping out.

The door clicked shut, and the tension in the room snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight. You let out a shaky breath, slumping slightly in your chair as the adrenaline drained from your body.

“You okay?” Logan asked, his voice softer now as he stepped closer, his eyes searching your face with an intensity that made it hard to keep up the façade. His brows furrowed slightly, the hard edge of his earlier anger melting into something gentler only meant for you.

“Yeah,” you said automatically, nodding, though your voice wavered. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, and the knot tightening in your chest threatened to unravel.

But then you shook your head, a trembling breath escaping before you could stop it. “No, I’m not—” The words broke free, and with them, the tears you’d been fighting blurred your vision. You quickly turned your head away, swiping at your eyes with the back of your hand, embarrassed at letting him see you like this.

Logan closed the distance between you in two steps, crouching slightly so he could meet your gaze even as you tried to look away. “Hey,” he murmured, laced with concern. “C’mere.”

Before you could protest, his calloused hands gently took hold of your arms, pulling you to your feet and into his chest. The solid weight of him wrapped around you and you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, the faint scent of sawdust and pine filling your senses as you buried your face against him.

“It’s okay,” Logan said, his voice a soft rumble against your hair. His arms encircled you, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back. “It’s okay. I got you.”

You let out a shaky breath, the tension in your body slowly easing as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek calmed you. For a moment, you let yourself lean into him fully, taking comfort in the quiet strength he always seemed to carry.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice muffled against his chest. “I just—he was being such a creep, and I didn’t know how to get him to stop without making it worse—”

“Stop,” Logan interrupted firmly but gently, leaning back just enough to tilt your chin up so you were looking at him. His dark eyes were sharp and fierce, but there was something softer beneath the surface that made your breath hitch. “You don’t need to apologize. He’s the one who crossed the line, not you.”

You nodded weakly, though the knot of guilt and frustration in your chest didn’t entirely fade. Logan studied you for another beat, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek where a tear had streaked down.

“He’s lucky I didn’t walk in earlier,” Logan muttered, his jaw tightening again, the earlier anger creeping back into his tone.

“Logan—” you started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“No. He doesn’t get to talk to you like that,” Logan said, his voice steady and unyielding now. “Not him. Not anyone.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening again—not from fear or anger this time, but from the overwhelming comfort of knowing someone had your back.

Logan stepped back slightly, his hands still resting lightly on your arms as he gave you one last searching look. “You gonna be okay if I step out for a minute?”

You hesitated, knowing exactly what he meant. “Logan, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “He needs to know to back off, and so do the rest of those idiots out there. No one gets to mess with you. Not anymore.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with promise. Finally, you nodded. “Okay,” you whispered.

Logan leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple that sent warmth flooding through you. “I’ll be back,” he murmured.

Outside, the guys were wrapping up for the day, the hum of machinery and the thud of lumber filling the late afternoon air. Bruce was leaning against a stack of pallets, laughing with two other workers, clearly unfazed by what had just happened.

That changed the moment Logan came into view.

The look on Logan’s face was enough to make most of the guys freeze in place, their chatter dying down as they caught sight of him. He moved like a predator, shoulders squared, his eyes locked on Bruce.

“Hey, Logan,” Bruce said, straightening up with a nervous laugh. “What’s up, man?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. He stopped a few feet from Bruce, his posture loose but coiled with restrained energy. The other guys stepped back instinctively, sensing the shift in the air.

“You got somethin’ you wanna say to me?” Logan asked, his voice low and calm—the kind of calm that made the hairs on the back of their necks stand up.

Bruce blinked, his grin faltering. “Uh, no? What’re you talking about?”

Logan took a slow step closer, his gaze never wavering. “I’m talkin’ about you runnin’ your mouth to her,” he said, his tone sharpening. “That stops now.”

Bruce tried to laugh it off, but it came out weak and shaky. “Come on, man, I was just joking around. She knows that.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “You think that was a joke? Do you think it’s funny to make her feel like that? To act like you can say whatever you want ‘cause she’s too polite to tell you to shut your damn mouth?”

Bruce’s face paled, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Logan cut him off.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Logan said, his voice quiet but carrying enough weight to make every man within earshot listen. “You’re gonna keep your distance. No comments. No looks. Nothing. You so much as breathe in her direction, and we’re gonna have a problem. You got that?”

Bruce swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

Logan didn’t move, didn’t even blink. “Say it.”

“I got it,” Bruce repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Logan stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the rest of the crew, making sure they were all paying attention. “That goes for all of you,” he said, his voice louder now. “She’s off-limits. You got a problem with that, you can take it up with me.”

No one said a word.

Satisfied, Logan turned and walked back toward the office, the tension in the yard following him like a shadow. From that day on, no one dared mess with you again.

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softfem-dom · 2 months ago

Text

wedding ring

origins!husban!logan x origins!wade x wife!reader

a/n : I don't know what came over me to write this, I have no excuse I'm just horny.

wc : 3k

NSFW , PORN WITH (LITTLE) PLOT , WADE IS A HORNY SHIT , MOMMY & DADDY KINK , GENERAL WADE™ BEHAVIOUR sub!origins!wade wilson . dom!origins!logan . dom!reader

synopsis : wade has always been a kinky little shit, it seems that title is well-deserved when he starts to fantasize about squeezing himself into a married couple old enough to be his parents.

If someone in the team were to ask Wade why he looked as if he hadn't slept in a decade, he'd say he was up practising his katana skills.

When in reality, he had spent the whole night groaning and moaning against his pillow while rubbing himself raw to the thought of you and Logan.

What was so special about you two, you may ask? You were married and were old enough to be his parents.

It was absolutely not his fault. You two had no right to come into the X-Team, looking so fucking hot and expect him not to get hard.

You couldn't just walk around the place with Logan's strong arm around your waist and expect him not to stare. You couldn't just hum in acknolovedgment everytime Logan leant into your ear to rumble something that the merc couldn't quite catch and expect him not to grow desperate.

He was a walking mess. Day and night his thoughts were consumed by you and Logan, Logan and you, and what you could do to him. He couldn't help it, he'd blame the undiagnosed ADHD anyday for titty-flashing him with so many dirty scenarios anytime you walked past.

Logan and you had been through a lot of shit togheter.

You had met sometime between the 1880's and the 1900's, both mutants and escaping from someone who was trying to do you harm. Both with the weight of taken lives over your shoulders, both with spilled blood on your hands. Both with the promise of living far too long.

And, cliche-y enough, you both had fallen in love. After uniting forces as acquintances, then growing as close as long-life friends, and then falling into the claws of love, you two had gotten married.

Happyly married, always attached to the hip, gold wedding wands on your ring fingers. Always watching out for the other.

And when William Stryker offered you both a place in a 'special opperations' team called X-Team, you both agreed —happy to help a cause—.

What you didn't expect, though, was Wade Wilson turning into another shit you had to go through togheter.

The mercenary seemed to never know when to shut his mouth, or how to read social cues, he just simply had a mouth too big for his own good. Hence why the nickname merc with a mouth was born amidst the members of the team.

He was a young man in his 20's, a cocky asshole and a total flirt that talked big game. He liked to show off during missions, pulling stunts, to impress Logan or you was another question that didn't have an answer yet.

You and your husband just knew the kid seemed to have the hots for one of you. Which made Logan boil with possesiveness because you were his damn wife, his and his only —possesiveness that in turn only made Wade all the more horny.

It wasn't until today's mission that you realized that the mercenary didn't have the hots for just one of you, but for both.

After trying to break in a building to stop some drug dealers, the team had split up and —ironically enough— left you three to flee from more guards than you could fight. And now, ironically enough again, you three were hidding in a really small supply closet.

You hadn't intended for it to end up this way, but your husband was with his broad back against the wall and with a pupil-blown Wade completely sandwiched between you two.

Wade was totally trying to keep his cool, desperately keeping up his usual cocky fachade, but his gut felt so damn coiled at having his ass pressed against Logan's crotch and his chest in level with yours.

"How did they notice us?!?" you asked your husband in a low breath, completely ignoring the merc between you.

Logan growled slightly, his nose twitching when a strangely strong scent wafted into his nostrils, shaking his head slightly as he tried to peek out from the small gap in the door. "dunno, doll, but I guess they didn't see us come here"

As you kept talking with your husband in hushed breaths, Wade was starting to feel his brain turning to damn mush as he was trapped between you two. He couldn't help it, your body warmth was sweeping into his bones from back and front —melting him—.

And then, suddenly he heard your voices stopping. Looking up with his half-glassy eyes, he was met by a quirked eyebrow and a deep scowl from Logan.

"are you damn horny right now, mouth?" Logan pretty much growled. His voice rumbling in his chest as he looked down at the young man between you two.

Wade blinked, realizing he had been so aroused —and locked up in his dirty fantasies— that he had pretty much started to leak in his pants.

"ohw, c'mon, what'd you expect?" the merc breathed out under your questioning gaze. "I've got my hot ass against someone's big dick and my face is smushed against this massive titties and jesus fucking christ—"

His words died down in a choked way when Logan's hand flied up to his throath, wrapping around it without issue —damn big hands the Canadian had— and squeezing. Choking a wheezed noise out of his mouth.

"shut your damn mouth if ya wanna keep your throath, bub" Logan growled in the merc's ear, his voice almost like the roar of a lion with how much red he was seeing.

You were just staring at the way Wade's eyes seemed to roll into the back of his head, thighs twitching before shamelessly parting —as if he wanted someone's hand between them—. The mercenary seemed to really be horny for you two.

"really, Wade?" you purred, voice low, as you stared at the young man —letting your husband do the job of shutting him up. "going after a married couple like this? didn't think you'd fall that low.."

Wade struggled to breathe through his nose with Logan's tight grip around his throath, but he spoke nonetheless. "aughn— you two are fucking god- relax the grip old man literally bisexual culture-"

His gasped words only made the growl bubbling up in Logan's throath grow louder. You saw the veins in your husband's arm bulging as he squeezed around Wade's throath again, watching the way the merc choked on his spit —saliva slobbering down the corner of his lips.

You reached out your own hand and placed it atop of Logan's, as if methaporically holding your husband's hand while he choked Wade.

"fucking god you two are really feeding my mommy and daddy issues right now y'kno-oh-oww—"

Wade's spech got cut off my another series of squeezes around his throath, making the mercenary cough and choke on his spit as his head fell forwards against your chest.

"watch your damn mouth, mouth"

"ngh-ah- unluckily for you I've got a thing for being put in my place by dominant, sexy, grown-ups. Big ones with huge—"

His voice died in his own throath when two, huge and thick, fingers were proding at his mouth. Sneaking past his lips and stuffing him full, his eyes rolled back, knees almost buckling underneath him when the meaty taste of sweat invaded his mouth.

"shut it, bub"

"hmn-nhgh"

"you managed to shut him up" you low whistled at your husband, impressed by how quickly and efficiently the merc had shut up. Now busy with nibbling at the fingers inside of his mouth.

"easy peasy" Logan huffed with a slight roll of his eyes. "don't know how long it'll last, though, just look at how damn much the kid's leaking"

Wade whined around Logan's fingers at the way you two were speaking as if he wasn't there, thighs trying to close when he felt your eyes going down and settling on the obvious tent in his pants —and the wet spot.

"so horny" you hummed, more to yourself than anything, before looking back at his face. "what does this mean, baby?" you purred as you pointed to the gold ring on your finger with a neutral look on your face —as if he wasn't coming undone before your eyes. "I don't think you're that dumb yet. C'mon, what does this, right here, mean, Wade?"

Wade struggled to swallow the spit pooling in his mouth around Logan's fingers, body almost tumbling forward when the Canadian ripped his fingers off of his mouth so suddenly.

"I- aughn- I—" he stumbled over his words, swallowing again, as his hazy eyes looked up at you. "that's a daddy and mommy ring" he wheezed out, a little "ah-ah!" escaping his lips when Logan grabbed his hair from the back —forcing him to behave—. "means- angh means that you're married. And old enough to be my grand-parents-"

"That's right, bub" Logan growled, leaning in close to whisper in Wade's ear. "We're a married couple and you're nothing but a pest."

"now, now, darling" you hummed lovingly as you looked at your husband, who was still grabbing Wade by his hair. "don't be so mean.. It turns him on"

That last was a low drawl, before your hand was cuping Wade's cheek and making sure the cold metal of the gold wedding ring you wore was against the merc's skin. "We've lived through wars, honey, you're a literal baby compared to us" you added, voice low and degradatory.

Wade shuddered as the cold metal of your wedding ring pressed against his skin, his eyes looking up at you with a mixture of desire and submission.

"I'm a- nnnng baby" he repeated, almost breathless. "Logan and you are old. So old."

Logan leaned in closer, his hand still clamped around Wade's hair. "Old enough to be your parents" he repeated, his voice dark and gravely. His teeth almost gracing Wade's ear. "Old enough that you shouldn't be interested in us, bub."

"Please, I- I- ahhhhnn I promise I'm good, I promise I'm good, I- I can be good."

It was funny, really, to see such a cocky and show-off of a man being this needy and whiny between you two. But what could you say, it was the Howlett effect.

You slowly slipped your gold wedding band out of your ring finger, right infront of Wade's eyes —watching the way he almost busted on the spot just from the sight alone—.

"this is what'chu want, ain't it honey?" you teased the mercenary trembling and whining between you. "you want this pretty ring on your finger too, don't ya? you wanna be the throphy toy to a hot, married couple old enough to be your parents, don't you, sweetheart?"

You held the wedding ring infront of Wade's face as one of your hands started to rub his arm —slowly going down to his hand—. Wade was shaking, he didn't even know how he hadn't cum untouched yet with how tight and hot his gut felt. All of his muscles coiled.

Wade looked like he was about two seconds away from spontaneously combusting right there in the small supply closet.

"Please" he breathed out, his voice strained and his eyes fixed on the ring in your hand. "Please, I- I want to be- nngah, I want it. I- I'll be good, I- aaahhhnn"

"Are you?" Logan asked, using the grip on Wade's hip to pull him closer against him. "Are you going to behave for us?"

After a series of jerky and rapid nods coming from the drooling mercenary trembling between you, "good fucking boy, there you go" your voice was low and syrupy, as you grabbed Wade's twitching hand and slowly —almost sensually— slipped the cold golden wand on his finger.

It looked as if he was going to combust just from having the ring on his finger, from the implications of having a wedding ring from a married couple on his finger.

Maybe you'd find an explanation for the creamy wet spot between Wade's legs and the way he was wearing your wedding ring when you meet the team in a few minutes. Or maybe you won't, who knows.

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kjupchurch-xx · 2 months ago

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Knowing You Part Two - WattPad Request

TMZ: BREAKING NEWS! Hugh Jackman calls younger co-star his Storm!

US Weekly: Hugh Jackman gets flirty on the red carpet with co-star!

Twitter Trends:

#HughJackman

#Kaitlyn

#GlenPowell

#HisStorm

As we made our way down the red carpet, I looked up to Hugh, still smiling for the hundreds of photographers snapping our photos. "I'm your storm, huh?" I teased.

He smiled as he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him for the photos. "Sorry, Halle." He joked back.

I playfully rolled my eyes, "You know the media is going to have a frenzy with that if they aren't already." I said with a laugh as we shifted our bodies in the other direction for the other photographers.

He leaned in, whispering in my ear, "Let them." He said as he pulled away, going back to posing for the cameras.

Soon, our other co-stars accompanied us, we posed for group cast photos, Hugh still keeping his grip on my waist. As the red carpet event ended, Hugh and I were riding in the backseat of the luxury SUV that had picked us up.

He still sat close, keeping his hand on my thigh. Glen and Rachel were scrolling through their phones as Glen chuckled, "She's your Storm, huh?"

Hugh laughed, "You heard about that, mate?" He asked him, gently squeezing my thigh.

Glen laughed as he showed his phone to us, "It's all over TikTok." It was playing a continuous loop of our interview where Hugh referred to me as "his Storm". I laughed as I watched myself try to keep from giggling at the camera as Hugh smirked into the camera view.

I smiled as I looked at him. He was everything I could've ever wanted in a man, but he and I had both made it clear we were not interested in a relationship right now after splitting from our long-term marriages. As much as I didn't want to admit for the fear of scaring him away, the friends with benefits situation had me starting to slowly fall for him. He pleased me in ways that no one ever had.

He caught me staring and looked at me, with a half smile, "What's on your mind?" He asked knowingly.

I chuckled, shaking my head slightly, "Nothing!" I said quickly.

His smile grew wider, "Oh? Really?" He asked, playful sarcasm dripping from his voice.

I bit my lip anxiously as I failed to hide my cheekiness, “Yep.” I said, as the sound of the ‘p’ popped.

He chuckled, still smiling at me, “I’m sure I’ll get it out of you later.” He said with a wink, giving my thigh another light squeeze.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I giggled softly, “You still owe me a milkshake.” I teased.

He playfully rolled his eyes, “Oh love, how could I ever forget?” He said sweetly.

I smiled as I leaned my head on his shoulder as the drive to our homes continued. Rachel was dropped off at her home, Glen was dropped off shortly after and Hugh would be dropped off with me since he hadn’t had a place of his own in LA. We all lived in close proximity to one another, so we weren’t alone in the SUV for much time before we pulled into my driveway.

As we got out of the SUV, we thanked the driver and headed towards my front door. “Finally…” I heard him say with a content sigh, “I’ve been waiting to have you all to myself all night”. He said playfully.

I giggled as I unlocked the door, allowing us to enter the house. “Can you at least let me get showered and out of this ridiculous dress?” I joked as we walked past the kitchen.

He chuckled, “I’m going to shower and change too. I need out of this suit.” He said as he removed the tie.

I snickered as I kicked the heels off, and walked past the couch. “Hey?” Hugh said softly from behind me.

“Hmm?” I asked, turning around to face him.

He sat on the couch, grabbing my arm, pulling me onto his lap. “You look stunning tonight.” He said softly as he smiled, his face slowly inching closer to mine.

“Thank you.” I murmured softly through my blushes as I felt his lips finally touch mine for the first time tonight.

I missed his kisses. I missed his touch. The kiss was slow, it wasn’t aggressive or crazy. It was a much sweeter, gentler kiss. He brought his hands up, cupping my cheeks as I wrapped my arms around his neck, getting comfortable on his lap.

He pulled away and looked at me, smirking slightly as I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth, gazing into his eyes. I wanted to tell him, but I just felt like telling him about the way I was starting to feel would potentially ruin things.

He shifted us both, “You gonna tell me what’s on your mind now, love?” He asked as he gazed into my eyes and slightly tilted his head.

I shrugged, trying to act as if I wasn’t sure what he was referring to. “Nothing. I was just thinking about how well the event went.” I said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

He squinted his eyes at my response, “You’re not a very good liar.” He giggled softly.

I mocked a dramatic gasp, “I’m not lying!” I exclaimed, giggling softly.

He fixed his hazel eyes back on mine, “Tell me what’s bothering you.” He said, his voice soft but firm.

My face instantly formed into a more serious expression. “I can’t.” I said, barely above a whisper as I looked away, still keeping my arms around his neck.

His expression softened, “You can tell me anything without judgement. You know that.” He said, continuing to gaze at my expression.

I looked up, exhaling deeply. I could feel my anxiety about to burst as I pursed my lips together tightly. “I fucked up.” I said bluntly with a dry chuckle.

He looked at me questionably, “What do you mean? What did you do?” He asked, his voice beginning to sound a tad bit worried.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, “I stopped being able to separate my feelings from our… our arrangement.” I said slowly, exhaling.

He looked at me, swallowing his own nervous lump in his throat as I continued. “I know you don’t want a relationship right now, and I said I didn’t either.”

He nodded in agreement, “You’ve developed feelings for me, is that what you’re saying?” He asked, trying to clarify my words.

I nodded slowly, “Yeah. That’s… what I’m saying. And I know this will absolutely screw everything up.” I said as I pursed my lips together once more.

He brought his hand up, running his fingers through his dark hair. I could feel tears beginning to well up in my eyes. I didn’t want to complicate things, or to run him off by feeling something for him other than lust.

I needed him to say something.

He removed his fingers from his own hair, placing his hand back on my cheek, cupping it. I felt my eyes close, afraid of his reaction or the rejection I was going to receive.

He chuckled softly, “That’s funny.” He simply said, causing me to open my eyes and look at him, feeling disappointed. He continued as he saw my expression, “I was just telling my mates a few days ago that I felt that way about you.” He said softly as a small smile began appearing on his lips.

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destielembarker · 3 months ago

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SFW & NSFFW ABC’s: LOGAN HOWLETT x Fem!READER EDITION

tags: FLUFFY, THEN EQUAL AMOUNTS NOT, cuddling, crying reader, fighting, blood, angry logan, pain kink, biting, hair pulling (m! receiving), no use of “y/n”, reader has a pus$y, cheating (mentioned), dirty talk, x-men characters, wade wilson, 18+ (let me know what else i need to add)

notes: i have severe adhd so be prepared for these not to be answered in the way they were intended but the appreciation is there all the same. also shitty grammar bc i decided to be a STEM major. please comment if you enjoyed!! love hearing your opinions.

SFW alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

This mfer does NOT do pda but that doesn’t mean he isn’t affectionate. You’ve grown to be okay with it. When it’s just you two in yalls bedroom in the mansion, he will never take his hands off you. Always following you to each room like a lost puppy. You’ve had to kick him out the bathroom a few times bc he says he doesn’t care but come on! He tries so hard to use his words too but it never comes out quite right so he sticks to physical touch.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

His hard ass dismissive attitude makes it hard to be friends with him and he knows that. ‘Push everyone away so you never get hurt’ kinda situation. But you bond in making fun of people. you both giggle when Scott trips over a chair and hell, if you’re gonna be mean, might as well do it together. The moment that solidified it between you two is when you had been in the mansion for about a week but never seen Logan before. You walk into Xavier’s office where he was chatting with Jean and you immediately blurt out “Nice hairdo dickhead!” and he, without missing a beat, responds, “Nice forehead fuckass!” and he mocks your fake gasp.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

This man doesn’t cuddle, he cages you in, in literal adamantium bars. He wraps his entire body around you and holds on tight like it’s his last time. You’re also smaller than him so his stomach is curled around your back and once he’s asleep, there’s no fucking way you’re moving his arms bc they are so heavy. His legs also braid between yours so you’re immobilized. You’ve had to explain a few times that he gets hot at night and breathing is a necessary function but he doesn’t change.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Bachelor of what, 200 years now? (he’s got some bad habits) He’s very weary when it comes to settling but mentioning a nice place in the woods peaks his interest. It takes a lot for him to admit that’s what he wants but when he does, you know instantly he isn’t just the type to settle with anyone and you’re special. He’s dated yes, but he usually plays the typical male card on some house work tho. He handles a majority of the outside work while inside he doesn’t care for much. Which is ok bc he allows you to be a stay at home wife bc of the nature of his work and he wants you to be as safe as possible.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It ain’t logan if it doesn’t go down in flames. and shit it would. He would definitely hit you where it hurts saying things like “I never loved you, you were simply accessible and easy!” and “Why do you care so much about me when I care so little about you?” and shit. it causes so much pain and resentment you’ve rather him cheat on you at this point.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Oh this a long long long wait but you two ain’t rushing to get hitched. He must first feel you’re worthy to keep around first because he ain’t just giving his heart away willy nilly, he’s been hurt multiple times and so have you. But after you almost died on a mission trying to save him he knew you were the one. And hell you’re already doing what married couples do now just without the kids, ceremony, and rings. He knows you’re his and you know he’s yours. You suggested the idea of rings but he claimed he would lose it so don’t waste your money on it. but you two mark each other up in other ways to set your claim so…

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s like a big dog that forgets he isn’t a lap dog. You’ve had to remind him he’s bigger and stronger so his seemingly small nudges from him feel like big pushes. He learns quickly and is soft and gentle and considerate too! Kinda same situation for emotionally, he’s a man out of his time so men didn’t really show emotions back then but he knows to keep you around, you gotta hear some type of verbal conformation of his love. He starts slowly with “You look nice today.” then slowly evolves into “I’d rather die than not spend another day with you in my life.” and that’s about as gentle as it gets.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Aside from running hugs (check my last post) he is such a good hugger. Remember what I said about PDA? hugs don’t count. He will wrap is arms around your neck and just stay there while he has conversations with the team. Seeing each other after two weeks? He will pick you up and swing you around after he gets back. He loves to pick you up to hug your middle to hear your heart beat while you hug his head. but sometimes he squeezes too much making you without oxygen.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

This comes after a year of yall being together when you had a massive argument about his relationship with Jean. He is always flirty with her and it makes you kinda jealous, so you confront him about it. He gets defensive and finally blurts out. “I DONT LOVE HER. I LOVE YOU.” and the room goes silent. You both stare at each other for a minute then you just smile and walk out. Not a ‘i love you’ back or anything because he was being a dick. But, eventually it comes later that night in bed. He gets so happy he cuts off your air supply from the kisses and hugs.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

If there’s one major thing that makes him different than the other guys you’ve been with, it’s his possessive jealousy. If another guy does so much as come within 3 feet of you he puts himself between you and him. At the grocery store checking out, and its male cashier? He will do all the talking and paying. And don’t get me started on Scott teasing him about taking you away from him. The claws come out and you have to grab him before he launches himself in Scott’s direction.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

This man and his kisses. I don’t think there’s a place on your body he hasn’t kissed. All over you from the very top of your head to the bottom of your feet he loves it all. And don’t get be started on the ‘racing home from a mission to meet you in your shared bedroom’ kiss. It’s more of a long drawn out sloppy make out session. Half the time you meet him at the door to your shared room and he can’t even say hello before you’re all over him. Where specifically does he like to be kissed you ask? This is the sfw section so use your imagination on that one.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Strangely enough this gruff exterior man loves kids. He prefers if they can walk and talk unless they’re y’all’s. He is such so interactive too. With his increased stamina he loves to tire them out by asking “do you wanna race?” and thus he runs those suckers out so they sleep and you two can do adult things.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s very quiet and grumpy. It starts with him rolling over towards your side of the bed. whether you’re awake or not he kisses your forehead or lips. If he has any extra time he will wrap his body around you and grumbles, “Good morning beautiful” and just hums when you stir awake. He isn’t much of a talker in the morning so you both just place soft kisses on each other until you meet each other in the bathroom for your morning shower together.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Similar situation as morning, depending on what the occasion is. If you’re hanging around the kitchen having a drink with Jean, Scott, and Ororo; he loves to talk and wind down with them then eventually both of you stumble to bed. A lot of kisses and cuddles. Some nights are shared with the both of you watching a movie, cuddled on the couch making occasional comments. He does turn into a grumpy old man when he gets tired so usually you turn to physical affection instead of verbal to keep him happy.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Oh this man has lived and loved. He has double the life time of memories that are fuzzy sometimes so something might remind him of something and tell you about it. I don’t think there is enough time in your life to hear everything there is to know about this man. Your relationship didn’t start on a long emotional outdraw, but, a hot heated physical relationship, then-turned-soft situation. Having to pry into his head about how he feels about certain things usually is how you learned what you do know about him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Anger isn’t the right word when you piss him off. Annoyed is more like it, at least that’s what you think of it like. You know he isn’t really angry because if he was those claws would come out more often. But from an outside perspective he’s saying things like “Shut the fuck up.” and “Stop speaking for 5 goddamn seconds.” and you know he doesn’t really intend harshness, just annoyance. It depends on the situation if he is patient tho. If it’s a serious situation, he will snap at you. If it’s a lovers quarrel he will sit you down and talk about it (with his dick in your mouth)

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Logan doesn’t forget any of the smallest details about you. One time you off handily mentioned that you don’t like tomatoes, so when he makes you and sandwich, he remembers no tomatoes for you. It was a tiny gesture but it was so sweet. He knows you like it quiet in the morning and loud music at night. He knows everything, even your favorite brand of tampons.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The month you first met was probably his favorite because all you two were doing was bickering. He would always say he was teasing you but you genuinely were spitting harsh remarks which he laughed off and dismissed. You knew he was attractive from the moment you two locked eyes but the constant arguments lead to a unusual rage that lied somewhere between frustration and hunger. Eventually, one night, it built so much in your body you started drunkly yelling at him, and he started laughed which pissed you off even more. So you marched across the room to smacked that smirk right off his face, that’s when he grabbed your wrist before it collided with his face and shoved you against the wall and started aggressively kissing you quiet. You were so angry trying to push him off but your body got the best of you and your fingers traveled to his hair to pull him closer to deepen the kiss. One thing lead to another and you woke up the next morning in his bed with nothing on.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Go back to J for reference. but he is aggressively protective of you. Claws out anytime he senses something might take you away from him. You attempt the same for him but you both know with his advanced healing and his aggressive behavior, nothing can get to him. And hell, you tried to protect him one time and you almost died, so he usually takes control of physical threats. Verbal threats? He loves to watch you argue with other people about how “taken” he really is, and he stands back with his arms crossed and smirks.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

God forbid you lift a finger on everyday tasks, he always growls and pushes you out of the way. dishes? laundry? cooking? He doesn’t say anything but comes over and takes whatever you’re doing and motions you to sit down. There’s only so much “I got this!” or “Let me do it!” you can say before he stops responding and keeps rinsing the plates in the sink. Where you differ is dates and anniversaries. You love all the “lovey dovey shit”. You never took much interest in any of the romance before but seeing him surrounded in rose petals and candle glow creates such a perfect contradiction you have to keep doing it. You can’t decide if he really likes it or not but he always grumbles and smiles everytime you do something romantic so you keep doing it.

You both really don’t do big gifts but sometimes you find something like a leaf shaped as a heart or a zippo with your initial and a heart around it in a gas station and gift it to him. He does similar things for you just to let each of you know you were thinking of one another when you’re away from each other. The only big gift he does unprovoked is get you a beautiful engagement ring.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Beard trimmings in the sink. Use his claws for unnecessary things which leaves scratch marks on things (there’s only so much you can touch up the paint on the wall before you give up.) Smoking in the house. Leaves the toilet seat up. Works too much. Tracks mud in the house with his work boots. He makes growly noises at night which sometimes stirs you awake. HE SNORES. (not a bad habit but it happens)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He doesn’t try to but he’s just naturally beautiful. the hair the beard he tries to keep trimmed but he doesn’t really care because you tell him everyday that he is the most physically attractive man that has ever crossed your path.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Definitely. The yearning in his body that he feels when you’re apart for an hour, let alone weeks while on missions is enough to kill him. You know he can’t call you because of spotty service on missions but you still like to send him selfies and he’ll respond when he can with hearts. He isn’t really technologically advanced so that’s what you get but, you know he is smiling on the other end.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

You have a small cat, that he found, that absolutely LOVES him. He acts like he hates her but she always screams and runs towards him when he gets home. She will climb up his back and sit on his shoulders and rubs her head all over his ears, back of head, and face. You get mad at him everytime he swats her off so he just allows it now. Everytime he sits down she is right on his lap. You knew she loved you when he first brought her home after he found her on the side of the road but she loves him even more. Slowly you find him baby talking to her while he makes dinner and eventually he starts referring to her as yalls baby. He knows you would do anything for him, but you do EVERYTHING for this cat so mutual respect is formed.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He hates pop music. Hates high pitched noises. Hates strong smells. Hates getting rained on & having wet clothes. Hates when you do poppy clicky noises with your mouth. hates people who chew with their mouth open. Hates annoying people in general. But everything about you that previous partners have been annoyed about, he loves. (having to unlearn not to keep parts of yourself from him takes a long time.)

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

For the first couple of months he told you that you shouldn’t sleep with him because of his nightmares can get so bad that he can accidentally stab you. Well that that ain’t got shit on your insomnia so youre always half awake enough to get out of the way if he does start thrashing. Plus your king size bed is big enough to roll out of the way and not hit the floor.

After a while his restlessness slowly evaporates because he feels so safe around you that the nightmares begin to fade. You both learn that you both get a restful night if you’re cuddled in his arms. No half touches, full on koala on your back. he is big and heavy and it does get hot at night but he doesn’t care, he just pushes the covers off (it helps both of you don’t sleep with much clothes on anyway) and curls around you tighter. It took a while to get use to, but now you cannot sleep without it. His two week long mission returns are met with your dark circles under your eyes. You told him multiple times it’s okay because he is saving people but he can’t help but to feel bad.

❈

NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jesus christ if you can get a chance for him to stop fucking you for 10 minutes he might partake in aftercare. His stamina is INSANE, he might get a little winded after 3 rounds and give you a break. but after he cums the first time, he is rock hard 5 minutes later. but afterwards you’re too tired to even care what happens but it’s usually met with lots of kisses, check in questions, and obviously cuddles. he is so physical touch driven so if he doesn’t say it, he’ll definitely show it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hair so he keeps it a little longer so you can grip onto it while he eats you out or aggressively making out with you. and he has said multiple times in the beginning that you’re not pulling hard enough so you YANK on his hair which invokes a loud growl from him and starts driving his tongue deeper inside your cunt. that’s when you learn that soft touch’s aren’t doing it for him anymore.

His favorite part on you is your torso. whenever he can he will wrap his hands around your middle and pull you closer to him. your torso can be grabbed anytime he wants to move you or throw you around so his hands will always trace your sides with his fingers and hold you down.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Pls refer to my older nsfw post about this man but to recap this man is absolutely different in terms of his semen than any other man. the fluid production in one ejaculation is probably twice the amount of a normal person. AND it’s thick and potent. the amount of sperm cells are also doubled than a normal person. it’s more of the consistency of liquid glue but without the sticky factor. it sits heavy inside you after one round and you know he isn’t finished.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a AGGRESSIVE breeding kink. he loves to fill your cunt filled to brim with his cum, he presses on your slightly bulged lower tummy to watch the cum drool from your cunt. you both know that IUD isn’t going to hold up much longer so he keeps mentioning things like, “i hope our baby gets your eyes.” and “Do you think we would put them in soccer or baseball?” and you always laugh it off but you’re at the point in your relationship with him that whatever happens, happens.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Bitch, “is he experienced?” is an insult even to think about. Logan Howlett is two hundred fucking years old. and he is a WHORE. you have enough self respect that you don’t even ask what his body count is because you know it’ll be in the high double digits if not triple digits. he knows every person is different but he knows exactly when he hits the spot on his partner and runs with it. you’re no exception. usually your younger partners in the past had to be taught how to please you. he doesn’t, he watches you closely and hit all your buttons plus more the first time you slept together and continues to do it each time.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Oh he loves to watch you ride him. not because he gets the most sexual pleasure from it but because he loves to sit back and smoke his cigar and watch you struggle to keep moving. his cock is so big it pokes out your stomach below your belly button and he loves to rub his hand over it while thumbing your clit. also gravity moves your cervix lower inside you so his tip is nailing it everytime you take him completely. it hurts and he has bruised you a few times but it hurts so good and he loves to watch your thighs shake and hear your whimpers of “Lo please help.” “i can’t do it by myself!” and he just chuckles and deeply growls, “You got this baby girl, keep using me to please yourself.”

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

This man doesn’t fuck around (hehe get it.) no but seriously, he only gets humor from watching you grow more and more desperate for him. he will tease you for a while but once he is fully inside you something takes over him and he begins to get more feral. he bites, he growls, he scratches, and he sucks on your neck claiming you as his. No time for jokes.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is fuzzy like a kitten and it doesn’t stop on top of his head. his chest, arms, thighs are all covered in black/brown hair. like his face, he keeps his pubic hair trimmed but not too tight. you have to watch when you give him kisses all over his body because you end up sputtering hair out. of course he likes to watch you struggle and pull spit covered hair out of your mouth after you suck him off.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You both lost the niceties very quickly into your relationship. it’s immediate pouncing onto one another the moment you two are alone. he pulls your hair back from your aggressive make out session causing you to whimper stating, “You want daddy to fuck you now?” he says looking into your eyes. “p-please!” you cry back and immediately he starts ripping off your clothes.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

His sex drive is so fucking high it’s insane. when he is on missions night one he’s already got his cock in his hands thinking about you. if you’re in the same time zone he will send you pictures with the caption “Thinking about you ❤️”

Any other person would disgust you but he has you so whipped that your mouth waters everytime you get a new dick pic from him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Blood play, do you know how giddy this man gets when you’re on your period and he can eat you out. you found it extremely weird at first but seeing the tip of his nose, beard, lips and chin covered in blood when he pulls back to get some air and has that feral terrifying look in his eyes it sparks something inside you. he also likes to mark you with claws. you both know how sharp they are and your lack of healing factor can be fatal but that’s what makes it all the more fun. he is currently sketching his name into your thigh one slash at a time. waiting for that to heal and scar over till he moves on to the next letter. right now your thigh looks like:

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He will take you whenever and wherever he finds fit. you have told him numerous of times that if charles finds yall he’s kicking you both out but that doesn’t stop him. wherever anyone is out of eyesight he will pull you aside and beg for it. empty classroom? laundry room? theater room? he doesn’t care.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The sight of any outfit on you that exposes more skin than usual. little mini skirts and crop tops are his weakness. when you bounce down the stairs into the kitchen for breakfast wearing a old band shirt you cut into crop top and some black denim shorts he almost drops the hot pan he’s holding. which scotty laughs at and he quickly whips his head to him saying, “shut it.” while slowly turning back to you gawking at your exposed tummy.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t share. Wade will definitely have asked one night but that resulted in having to buy a new rug for the living room because of the amount of blood wade’s wounds dripped everywhere. he spent at least 10 minutes stabbing him everywhere before Wade said “OKAY, i tap out. i get it. she’s yours.” while you giggled on the couch nursing your third cosmo that wades heavy hand poured.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Logan’s favorite quote when you first got together was “I don’t eat your pussy for your pleasure, I do it for mine.” and shit does he live up to that. he’s so good at it and his tongue gets so deep inside you. his entire mouth latches onto your clit and sucks. you joke he goes blind when he eats you out because he absolutely makes out with your sopping pussy saying, “wrong lips asshole!” which results in him reaching over your torso and wrapping his hand around your throat and pinning you onto the bed while he continues to lick your entire pussy with a flat tongue. he uses both hands to thumb your folds wider so he can get deeper inside you while maintaining eye contact. he loves to kneel on the floor beside your bed and prop you up on pillows beforehand because your elbows usually give out. he loves to watch your face twist and scrunch and listen to your needy whimpers. he keeps conversation to a minimum but occasionally he will pull away with a spit string still attaching his bottom lip to your clit saying, “MY pussy always tastes so good for me. you’re MINE.” and goes right back to what he is doing making your head throw back in pleasure. he abruptly pulls back and smacks your ass, “Fucking watch me.” he says harshly. you snap your head up looking at him with wide eyes and he gently blows onto your swollen clit making a tear drip from your face in full pleasure alone.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I don’t think this man believes in the term “slow” anymore. whatever he does in life he has to do it quickly. Sex is no exception unless he is purposely teasing you. After a particularly bad night where you two were non stop arguing you decided the only way to resolve it was some good old fashioned hatefucking. this lead to a trip to the OBGYN the next day because of the severe bruising on your cervix (i told you he was big.)

It started with some mild discomfort during sex then felt like something heavy landed on your stomach. you immediately yelped in pain which he surprisingly reacted quickly and concerned. “N-no more. Hurts.” you said through tears and sniffles. he immediately pulled out and started asking a bunch of questions and apologizing while wrapping his body around you hugging you tightly. he grabbed your shirt and your panties and helped you get dressed. he put on his gray sweatpants and crawled into bed beside you. you were curled up on your side facing away from him.

“Hey honey, talk to me. what’s going on?” he muttered softly into your ear, curling around your back. “I don’t know Logie, h-hurts.” he took a deep breath and shivered on the exhale. the thought of actually hurting you, hurt him. you knew that.

you rolled over, wincing in pain, to look him in the eyes. “I love you.” you mumble while making eye contact with his fearful eyes. he smiled and brought you into a big hug. “I-I love you so much baby. I don’t remember why we were fighting-g but i don’t care anymore. I wanna make sure you’re o-okay.” he sounded like he was going to cry.

“I’m ok baby! We’ll get it checked out tomorrow. I don’t remember why we were fighting either. I love you that’s all that matters.” you say against his bare chest.

he lets out a shaky sigh and chuckles a little before kissing the top of your head and relaxes his body off to sleep with you still wrapped tightly around him.

that’s when you both learned to take it easier.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You hate quickies but most of the time it’s easiest way to calm this horn-dog down. sometimes in boring meetings he will come up behind you, wrap his arms around your middle and slowly rub his hard-on against your ass. that’s when you turn around and look over your shoulder and give him a look of “really?” and he looks down at you with a very serious look on his face and nods slowly. that’s when you both have to excuse yourself from the meeting in Xavier’s office to a nearby empty classroom.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

You think it’s a risk everytime he opens his mouth. straight dick-to-mouth thinking. he says the nastiest things that he doesn’t recall afterwards.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can cum 3 times without feeling tired. you’re suprised more often than not about how much cum his balls can actually hold. it feels like a huge load inside you each time and you joke it’ll start leaking from your nose if he’s not careful.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Oh no he doesn’t allow you to use toys. you’re a strong independent individual but this is his one rule. nothing else should give you as much pleasure as he does. you suggested a bullet vibrator clit one time but both of you agreed it isn’t as good as his thumb rubbing circles on your clit so he threw it out. he allows you to finger yourself when he is gone to take the edge off but your fingers are too small and doesn’t reach where you like it so it enviably leaves you more frustrated than before.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If you could change one thing about Logan it would be his ability to tease you for so long. he brings you right on the brink of giving up and calling quits out of pure frustration alone before he slams his entire length into you. he knows how bad it pisses you off but he brings it out on occasions. he makes you cry most times about how bad you want him inside you and he loves to watch your makeup run down your face.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

If you were an outsider who didn’t know what was happening and started listening inside yalls bedroom you would think he was pretending to be a rabid bear. he growls, groans, huffs and moans when he is inside you inbetween his breathy voice asking “Does my baby girl love her cunt filled with daddy’s cock?” “you’re so fucking tight, shittt.” and “stop fucking squirming and take me.” he doesn’t try to be quiet either. like i said, when Logan fucks he turns into an animal. he only cares about you two.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Logan Howlett likes to be choked. you already think he loses brain function when he fucks well this makes it ten times worse. he stops talking and turns to soft grunts and his hips snap harder than before. it’s sometimes a trick you use when he is being too vocal and want him to just fuck you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He loves his tight black boxer briefs with some name brand across the top waist band. but if not, he’s commando, some days which you told him is weird but he just laughs you off stating, “easier access to you.”

Also he lovesss his stupid white tank top under his shirts. you call it stupid because jesus christ, every curve of his huge muscles on his abs and pecs are exacerbated by these tank tops. he has caught you drooling mid conversation when he casually walks around with it on.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Animal i tell you. he doesn’t give up. if he had it his way he could be straight fucking for 5 hours without a break. you’ve had to remind him a few times “Honey it hurts. i’m tired.” and weather he feels he’s got his fill or not will elicit a response like, “I’m sorry honey is daddy too much for you? Do you need a break?” or “Shut the fuck up. you’re going to appreciate whatever I give you and you WILL say thank you afterwards.” while snapping his hips harder into you. Most days the latter is preferred.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to actually settle afterwards. he needs to make sure you’re comfortable, not in any pain, cleaned up, and warm wrapped around him before he can settle and drift off to sleep.

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animasola86 · 2 months ago

Text

🐺 A FILLING EXPERIENCE

knotting!dildo x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 9.8k

You were a little drunk and very horny when you browsed the website looking for a new sex toy. When your order arrives, however, you feel like you did something very wrong. Or did you? Maybe it'll grow on you? (Not sure that's a good thing, though.) Prepare for a wild ride.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Sex toys! Possessed sex toys. Masturbation. Knotting. Referenced werewolves. Referenced A/B/O dynamics. Possession. Vaginal sex. Breeding. Memory loss. (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: The prompt was "knotting, masturbation, sex toys". The pairing is what it is. For a reference picture of the star of the show (aka the dildo) check it on AO3! (Also, very surprisingly, but this is not an ad for Bad Dragon, I swear.)

You spend a whole minute staring at the item you just pulled out of the unassuming box. The sheer size of it both makes your head spin and mouth very, very dry (at the same time, you feel a growing wetness somewhere much lower). Wow. Just wow. What is that thing? You're absolutely sure you ordered it in a different size, the smallest to be exact, so this can't be right.

Licking your lips, you blink, focusing back on the packaging. There isn't anything on the box, but you find a little sheet of paper next to the satin bag it came with. The dimensions listed make you frown. Putting the hefty item back on your desk, you fumble for the ruler you keep in one of the drawers. Then you start measuring the damn thing.

It's almost nine inches long, if you dismiss the large base that holds it steady to any surface. The head is the smallest part, two inches wide and tapered, the shaft flares out then, you measure two and a half inches in width, sloping into a soft curve lined with ridges and little nubs, before the main attraction protrudes in a rather menacing way: the knot, two bulbous bumps, and they even added thick veins to the design. Your hand is shaking when you put the ruler next to it. Three point five six inches wide.

That's a lot. Way too much. This will never fit inside you. Ever.

And still you are intrigued. Of course you are, you ordered that dildo for a reason, even if it came in the wrong size. (You could return it, you know that, but it's been a thrill to order it in the first place, so sending it back seems like too much of a hassle.) But just seeing it now, sitting heavy on your desk, with your small hand resting beside it, with its intricate and strangely realistic textures, it looks too intimidating.

You've read these werewolf stories where some fair maiden stumbles through the forest and ends up getting relentlessly knotted by the monster (or the more modern versions of some alpha male knotting his omega mate to help them through their heat, which always fascinated you a little more because it seemed not as fantastical). The idea to have something big inside you, filling you, stretching you out, and then something even bigger holding you in place, making it impossible to move, gives you chills, in the good way.

You may have been a little drunk and very horny when you ordered this fantasy dildo, but seeing it now, in the “flesh”, makes you very anxious. This was a stupid purchase. It won't be the same anyway. It's just the disembodied dick of a creature that doesn't exist in the first place. You'll be stuffed, sure, but you'll miss the warmth and the strength of whoever this would be attached to.

You sigh. Well, nothing you can do about it. You neither have a boyfriend to test this out with nor do you possess any magical abilities to make that fantasy come true, and as of right now, you don't see yourself using the damn thing anyway. It's too large (your other dildos look downright puny in comparison), and you are too small.

Despite it all, it is mesmerizing you. You chose a deep midnight blue as the color, that blends from a lighter blue at the tip into an almost black at the base, which makes it look slightly slimmer than it is. Slowly you move your hand up and close it around the curved shaft, well, you try, your fingers are too short to reach all the way around. You still slide your palm along the ridges and bumps, feeling the firm smooth silicone. It gives way in some places, you can bend it just a little bit, but when your hand reaches the knot, those bulbs feel almost a little too rigid.

You squeeze them, watching your knuckles blanching, knowing you will never have the same grip with your pussy. Warmth rushes into your cheeks at the thought. Biting your lip, you keep stroking the strange toy, getting a feel for it, trying to imagine how it would fit inside you. With how hefty the base is, you would have to put it on the ground and lower yourself onto it, which sounds like a workout you're not so sure you'd like.

But maybe the base comes off and you can use it like a regular dildo, snuggled into bed, hidden under your blanket? You lift the thing up and try to twist the base, but nothing happens. Hmm. At least it's sturdy. You find a little hole at the bottom, and you remember you ordered it with a... what did they call it, cumtube? Sounds weird, but it's just a long tube you can fill with cum-like lube that shoots out at some point? You're not too clear on the workings of that. But the idea to be filled by something warm and sticky makes your stomach tense up in anticipation.

Shifting on your chair, you inhale sharply and pull your hand away from the dark blue item. Well, this is not going to happen, not now. Maybe never. The idea is nice, but you don't see it being too pleasurable in reality. So you pack it up into its unassuming black satin bag along with the bottle of lube and the long tube it came with, and store it in the lowest drawer of your desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

Or so you hope.

When you go to bed that night, you see the large dildo in your mind's eye, and you recall these smutty stories, you imagine the grunts of the werewolf as he fucks the poor woman beneath him, rutting into her like the feral creature he is. And how she screams when he bottoms out, pressing all those inches into her, forcing his knot to stretch her entrance, how her pussy lips grip around it and pull it further inside. You have your hand between your legs as you try to imagine what it must feel like to be this full, to be bred and filled, with nowhere to go, stuck on those bulging bulbs.

A moan escapes you as your body shudders. You could try it. You have the hardware. It's right there. You just have to get up and get it... But you're too cozy in bed, under your warm blanket, with your fingers rubbing hard circles around your clit. You end up coming to the idea of it, and that's enough for you. Content with your heart racing, you exhale loudly, wiping your wet fingers on your thigh before you snuggle into the bedding and close your eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep.

Maybe not as dreamless as you've hoped. You wake up the next morning with a dry throat and sticky thighs, your mind swimming with images of cocks plunging into squelching holes, of being held down and ravaged, and you shudder at the memory. Blinking your eyes into focus, you sit up – and freeze.

There, on top of your desk, sits the large dark blue dildo, shining in the sunlight filtering through your window. No way. You've put it into the drawer, into its bag, far away, and even though you thought about using it last night, you didn't. And even if, you wouldn't put it back on the desk like that, right? But it's there, almost mocking you. Slowly you stand up and walk towards your desk, reaching out a hand to touch the smooth surface.

It's sticky, almost warm to the touch. What the hell? But you haven't used it, you're sure, you'd certainly remember it, wouldn't you? Shaking your head, you dismiss it for the moment and start your morning routine as if nothing happened.

Before you leave for the day, you grab the dildo and the toy cleaner you keep in your bedside table and give it a good scrub. Then you hide it away again, shutting the drawer with a firm thud. You are tempted to put a lock on it, but that's just silly.

Later that evening, you sit in bed and scroll through the stories on your phone, mindlessly skimming through your preferred genres. Somehow you end up on another knotting story. What are the odds. This one is set in the omegaverse, depicting an alpha bodyguard taking care of the omega girl in his care... by knotting her senseless. Just your kind of story. You end up with your fingers in your cunt, rubbing and poking desperately as you read.

You're close, your thighs twitching with every brush against your sensitive clit, stomach tense, feet curling into the sheets as you pump your hips. Your breaths are frantic, heart thundering inside your chest. Soundless, strangled gasps escape you (you're always mindful of your noises, these walls are thin and you don't want to alarm or entertain your neighbors) and you squirm and writhe, your phone falling out of your hand when you have to clutch at the edge of the bed.

“Fuck,” you croak out quietly while you roll onto your side and press your thighs together, trapping your hand, fingers stilling inside your clenching pussy as your body convulses under the mind-numbing throes of your orgasm.

You lie there for a moment, taking deep gulps of air into your burning lungs, slowly calming down again. Through the dark room you look towards your desk. And you can see it, your new toy, hidden away, waiting, and before you know it, you stumble off the bed and rip the drawer open and the large dildo out of its bag. You don't even care about the lube at this point.

With your back pressed into the bed, you rub the tapered tip between your wet folds, gathering your slick. You need both hands to guide the big thing back and forth, it's quite heavy. With your heart racing and your stomach fluttering, you angle your hips, feet pressed into the bed, and then you push. The head parts your lips and sinks into your entrance, and it's already a stretch that makes you inhale sharply.

But you keep going, your arms shaking under the exertion of forcing the toy deeper. You feel its protruding ridges and nubs rubbing against your soft walls as you start moving it in and out slowly. There's still so much of it in your hands, but the curve of the thing already presses between your tight muscles. You turn it slightly, figuring out which way feels best, and in doing so drill it even further.

You stop before your pussy lips brush against the bulbous knot, and you hold it tightly when you let the thing just rest inside you for a moment, feeling its girth and length and weight, its textures and shape. Clenching around the toy, you try to relax on the bed, grinding your hips slowly against your hands. It feels amazing, those ridges and nubs seem to hit all the right spots. Little moans slip from your parted lips, mouth hanging open as you squeeze your eyes shut.

The base is heavy between your fingers, and you feel them cramping slightly as you continue to move the large dildo in and out, considering using it like it's intended to be used: standing upright on the ground as you impale yourself on it. But it's a daunting thought, and your legs are already shaking badly. You doubt you have enough strength left to do squats on it now.

So you keep pumping half of it into your tight cunt, both hands closed around the hefty base, hips meeting your thrusts, the wet squelching sounds echoing through your room, adding to the growing arousal inside you. Your wrists hurt under the strain, but you're desperate now, hectic whines escaping you as you double your efforts, pushing and pulling, ramming that damn thing into you as fast as you can.

Arching your back and lifting your hips off the bed, you lean into the impending release, so close, a few more nudges, come on – when a sudden cold breeze over your sweaty face alerts you to something you cannot stop. It's as if an unseen force pushes the dildo with you, stronger than your own hands, an assist you didn't ask for.

But you're too far gone, gasping with your mouth wide open, head pressed into your pillow, thighs twitching, the tension ready to explode, and then it does, and at the same time as your orgasm crashes over you, a strange jerk goes through your body, and your usually voiceless cry becomes a real one, an almost scream as you feel your clenching cunt being stretched. Your hands fall away from the toy in an attempt to let it pop out and relish in the empty feeling as your contractions shake your body, but there's no empty feeling, because you're not empty.

You're stuffed. Somehow the knot has made it into your tight channel and your pussy lips grip the shaft beneath it, and as much as you push and clench, it doesn't budge. Cold panic rips you from your post-orgasmic bliss. Your hands claw at the base sticking out of you as you gyrate your hips, feeling every ridge and nub and bump pressing hard into your fluttering walls, but the toy is lodged within you. How did that happen?

Breathing harder, both from the exertion and the anxiety of having a sex toy stuck in your cunt, you wail quietly, rolling onto your side, lifting your leg, pulling on the damn thing. No chance. It's in there now. Knot and all, and the more you squirm, the more you feel the tapered tip pressing into depths nothing has ever pressed into before. It's a strange pain, sharp and piercing, a jolt of electricity with every movement of your body.

You lie on your back now, legs still angled, thighs twitching, trying to calm yourself down. You need to relax your muscles to get it out, you know that, but it's hard, as hard as the toy inside you. And somehow you feel it... expanding? No, that must be your imagination. It's not one of those inflatable things, you made sure of that. But the stretch is there, and it hurts.

Your hands are back between your legs, gripping the hefty base, but in your attempt to rip it out somehow, you suddenly feel it loosening and with another surprised/pained gasp, you realize you're holding the base of the toy – but without the toy.

“No!” you wail louder, staring at the dark piece of silicone between your fingers. It came right off, not as sturdy as initially suspected after all. You throw it aside and finger at the now-base of the fake shaft. It's barely sticking out now, your cunt eager to swallow it whole it seems. Whining in panic, you try to hook a finger between your tightly stretched skin and the dildo, but there's no way you can grip it like this.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as your anxiety grows. Chill. Calm down, it'll pop out on its own, they always do, don't worry, you try to soothe yourself. Not the first time you accidentally pushed a toy in too deep, but those were smooth ones, half as long and half as thick, with no ridges or knots, of course they'd slip out again. But this thing? It's a fucking knot, designed, by nature, to keep itself lodged inside any unsuspecting hole.

You think back to those stories you read about the topic. Those were fictional though, and every author handled it slightly differently. In some of them, the knot would just deflate when the man (or werewolf) was done dumping his potent load into his victim or mate, in others it stayed bulbous and inflated for a long time, locking the two people together, which, in a way, is a romantic thing and something you'd like to experience once in your life as well, but there's nobody attached to the dildo in your cunt, no one to hold you, to calm you, to rub your back and ease you through the pain of stretching and being filled.

The thought makes you sad, and in your frustration you buck your hips, only to gasp when the motion causes the toy to rub against these very sensitive spots that make your toes curl. You move your pelvis again, ripping a quiet moan from your throat, and then you fall into a slow rhythm of undulating into the bed, one hand back on your mound, feeling the tight fit of the toy before you start rubbing your swollen clit gently.

Before you know it, you work yourself to yet another orgasm, and the dildo seems to work with you. You even nudge its base a little, pushing it deeper, right against that sweet spot in the far back, and you groan at the sensation of pleasure/pain as you thrash your head into the pillow. Rolling onto your side, you keep grinding against the heavy thing inside you, panting under the exertion, your body curled up tightly, just like the coil in your tense stomach.

You're teetering on the edge, head empty except for that delicious cotton that makes you forget everything. It feels so good. The stretch, the pressure, the snug fit, those ridges and nubs and those seemingly pulsing bulbs pressing right against your g-spot. Mewls and wails fall from your trembling lips, and in your haze, you end up on your stomach where you lift your hips up and start humping your mattress feverishly.

The additional stimulation to your clit makes you cry out loudly, and you can only muffle your noises by pressing your face into the pillow. Your hard nipples rub against the fabric of your shirt with every gyrating motion with how you scrape your chest over the bed, and it doesn't take long before you stumble right over the edge, your muscles clenching hard around the toy, squeezing with all they have, as a million bright lights explode around you.

You're too far gone to think at that point, but if you would have been able to, you'd wonder why the toy doesn't come shooting out of your convulsing channel like most other toys would. It's not just the knot holding it in place, there's a strange force keeping your hips up and the dildo inside you. But you notice none of it, not the stiff position of your body as you tremble and quake, hands clawing at the sheets, knuckles white, fingers hurting, you just keep riding the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

You do, however, feel a familiar warmth gathering deep inside you, and you assume it's your own release waiting to gush past the item if it weren't for the knot plugging you up like a cork. Though it feels a little different, not something your body produced due to high stimulation, but something being added...

You groan deeply when your body makes a forward jerk as you feel the toy moving within you. Which shouldn't be possible. It's almost as if it's pulsing, throbbing, twitching, and with those motions something hot pushes into you, filling you up, seeping into every nook and cranny left by the large toy invading your already tight space. You shudder deeply, wondering in your fucked-out state what's going on, before you feel a strange stretch, a pressure building up inside you, and then, like an airlock being lifted, a strange squelching sound appears and you feel something hot and sticky trickling down your leg.

Remaining in your bent-over position, you move a hand between your legs and feel for whatever is leaking out of you. It's thick, thicker than your own juices, and much stickier. You bring it to your eyes, and whatever liquid it is, it pulls into thin strands as you part your fingers. Feels like cum. You blink at the sight and feel of it, and in your stupor, you roll onto your side, feeling more of it gathering between your legs.

When you're on your back again, you lift your hips, your sticky hand rubbing over your bare stomach, trying to ignore how tense and full it feels, down to your mound, teasing at the stretched opening. You feel the silicone against your fingertips, and it's no longer an intruder you want to get out immediately, it's become a strangely comforting feeling, despite the out of nowhere appearing cum-like substance. Maybe you filled it up before you used it? You can't remember, honestly. Does it matter? Not really.

You enjoy the feeling of fullness, the stretch and pressure, how with every slight movement the toy's ridges dig into your soft walls. The curve of it fits perfectly inside you, and the bulbous knot makes it sit so snug, as if it was made specifically for your cunt. You almost laugh at your initial apprehension and how you thought that huge thing would never fit into your tiny body, but look at you now, stuffed and happy.

With one hand on your mound, now eager to keep the toy in, as you rub your swollen labia gently, you roll onto your side and snuggle into your bed, your other hand pulling the sheets over your sweat-slick, sticky body. You don't care about washing up, you just want to sleep, softly riding out the blissful tremors of what this amazing toy has made you feel.

Closing your eyes, you imagine lying next to your alpha mate, or even a fluffy werewolf, as he holds you tightly pressed to his warm body, cock stuck inside your clenching cunt, knotting you to your (and his) heart's content.

But despite feeling exhausted, you can't stop grinding your hips against your hand, breathing harder when the warmth and tension builds up all over again as the dildo presses into all the right places. Soft moans slip from your dry lips, a shudder crashing through you at the feel of the tight knot stretching your sensitive skin. That last orgasm before you actually fall asleep is a mild one, a soothing thing washing over you, a warm embrace from something that isn't there.

You wake up with a sigh, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to start the new day. There is a strange soreness between your legs, as well as a very sticky sensation on your skin, but you don't care much for it – before you sit up and yelp when a sudden pain crashes through you. You stand up so fast your head is spinning, and as you press a hand to your mound, you can feel that the dildo is still lodged snugly inside you.

Yet you don't even have time to panic as the room grows dark all of a sudden. Then it all happens very fast. Somehow you are being turned and bent over the foot of the bed, chest pressed into the mattress by a force you can't explain. Your hands grip for the sheets as you struggle against whatever is holding you down. Are you still dreaming? You can't be sure. It feels too real.

And the pain when something pulls at the dildo in your cunt, when the knot stretches your pussy lips as it forces its way past them, is very, very real and makes you wail into the bedding. After the first stretch, the rest of the toy slips out easily, and with it comes a flood of something warm and sticky, spraying against your inner thighs, dripping down your legs, pooling around your bare feet on the floor. You gasp at the sudden emptiness.

All that wasted seed, you think as if someone has planted the thought into your head. Better put in a new load. Before you can properly wonder about where those words came from, you feel something nudging against your stretched entrance. You stand on shaking legs, ass in the air, torso pushed down into the bed, and you struggle, or try to, but you can't move. It's as if you're frozen in time and place, held down by an invisible force.

It's too dark to see anything, not that you could anyway with how your face is buried in the sheets. All you can do is take it, and even that you're not sure you can. It feels like something is standing behind you, something cold that lets goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin, and at the same time there's something very hot sinking into your fluttering cunt. You know it's the silicone toy warmed by your own body, but it feels different somehow. It feels... real.

You grunt with every sharp stab it gives you, parting your folds, plunging deep, but not as deep, teasing you with those ridges and nubs that scrape over your gummy walls, and the swell of that knot nudges against your entrance, never breaching it. Not yet anyway. The pace is brutal, a feral rutting, pistoning in and out fast and hard, and you can barely contain your noises anymore. They're muffled but still loud in your ears. Maybe because they're the only thing you hear, aside from the wet squelching of your cunt.

Whatever is pushing that dildo into you, whatever took over for you, doesn't make a sound, but you can feel it, you know it's there, holding you down and restrained. Whatever it is.

As sure as you are about the invisible force fucking you on your own bed, you are about the impending orgasm creeping closer with every hard thrust. The constant in and out of the rigid toy makes your head spin, your stomach tense, your thighs tremble. You're moaning and mewling, desperate for release as the warmth gathers in your core, ready to burst free. You even manage to press your hips back and meet the motions of the toy pounding into you.

And then you come, wailing loudly, barely restrained, lights exploding behind your eyelids as your body shudders and convulses, and you feel something wet splattering on the wooden floor, adding to the mess pooling around your feet. You've never squirted before, but you just know that's what happened, if you could analyze the moment, which you can't because your head is deliciously empty as you let bliss take over your thinking apparatus.

You barely register how the toy keeps plunging into your wet cunt, those squelching noises obscene if you would care about them, and as you still float on that amazing high, you feel its thrusts getting slower, slightly deeper, more deliberate, those bulging bulbs nudging firmer against your pussy lips, and suddenly the pressure grows stronger, making you gasp and your legs shake badly, and you fight it, stiffen, muscles tensing up, making it all the worse, but whatever controls the large dildo doesn't care as it pushes it further into your protesting cunt.

You let out a deep groan when it finally breaches the tight squeeze, stretching your sensitive skin, slipping into you, and that motion, the getting swallowed by your own body, turns your wails of distress into cries of pure pleasure as you come again around the invading object, your walls fluttering around the knot. You almost lose your footing, but the force that's penetrating you is still holding you up, no matter how badly your body spasms against the bed.

The dildo is back inside of you, all of it, from the tapered tip that teases at your cervix to the swollen protrusions to the bit of shaft after that. Your cunt clenches around all of it, holding it in place, hugging it to its contracting walls, letting it rub against all those special spots. And you keep shaking, so sensitive by now the slightest motion causes you to gasp and shudder. You'd be content like this, having it inside you, just resting, as heavy and large as it is, but whatever decided to take over, doesn't see it that way.

While you couldn't possibly push the thing deeper the last time it was wedged into you, you now feel it moving, nudging further, the hard tip pressing into your depths, stretching you in a way you've never been stretched before. It hurts, but it also feels good. And it's good that you think so, as you don't have a choice in the matter anyway.

The toy is pushed and pulled in slow fluid motions, and you feel the knot pressing hard against your entrance, stretching but never leaving your cunt. That doesn't stop the force behind you, though. The shallow thrusts continue until they turn into a desperate rutting, quick short stabs that make you howl as they bully both your deepest spot and the tight muscles of your hole. It's painful in the best way possible, and you feel your legs trembling, your stomach tensing, that warmth filling you up before it all explodes, catapulting you over the edge all over again.

You scream as you come, luckily muffled by how your face is still pressed into the bedding, but the sensation isn't any less extreme. Your orgasm crashes over you like the biggest tidal wave you've ever experienced, not that you have seen any of those before, but it sure feels like it hits you straight in the chest and drags you along, throwing you around, unrelenting, merciless, as you're being pushed and pulled and gasping for air.

Your walls clench hard around the still pistoning intruder, the curve, the ridges, the nubs, that fucking knot, all playing vital roles in keeping you afloat (or drowning), prolonging the gloriously mind-blowing experience. You feel dizzy, your heart thundering in your chest, lungs burning, body arching and spasming, as you are being hurdled from one orgasm to the next, or so it feels, and it never ends, not even when the toy suddenly stills, pushed as deep as possible, and then it throbs.

Even though you're barely able to feel anything anymore, you can feel its vibrations, the thrum from deep within it, and it shouldn't do that, it's not a vibrating toy, you tell yourself, it's also not an inflating one, but it still seems to swell, or the knot is, and it's pulsing against your tense muscles, stretching them, working inside you, and then... it unloads.

The warmth it fills you with is scorching, so filling you feel it bulging your stomach, which shouldn't be possible, and you may even taste it on your tongue as you gulp for air. It's all around you, but mostly inside you, and there it stays because the knot keeps it from spilling out. You are plugged shut, and it keeps pumping, giving you more, and it feels both oddly comforting and terrifyingly too much. You feel like bursting, so full, way too full, but all you can do is groan quietly.

With your mind still reeling, you are suddenly moved, lifted up by invisible hands (or paws?), cradled against something strangely warm as you're being put onto your side on the bed, your stomach fluttering and bulging, tensing badly under the onslaught of whatever liquid is pumped into your depths. The knotting dildo remains deep inside you, stuck and locked in, and you become drowsy, exhausted from whatever just happened. The darkness is still all around you, but you feel warm and content and taken good care of.

A smile grazes your dry lips as you imagine lying in the embrace of a mate, a lover, holding you after the strenuous ordeal of being knotted and bred, as their cock keeps pumping cum into you, as you remain tied together. And it feels so real...

Your eyes flutter close, and you inhale deeply, shifting slightly with your precious cargo inside you. As you drift into unconsciousness, the room grows brighter again, letting in the warm sunlight of a day already reaching its halfway point. Of course, you notice none of that, gone as you are.

When you stir awake, the darkness is back, this one real, lying like a heavy blanket all around you, while you lie on your side, shivering because you seemed to have kicked off your own blanket. Once you come to fully, you feel a little strange. Your mind is fuzzy, laden with images that couldn't have happened. Did you dream all that? Surely. It would be too weird if not.

But then why do you feel full when at the same time you are blatantly empty? Rolling onto your back, you grind your hips, assessing if you were indeed knotted and bred, but there's nothing. Your stomach rumbles, and when you touch it, it's normal, not bulged and tense but soft, and that's probably where the emptiness comes from. You're hungry, but that hunger also feels like an air pocket inside you, too big to ignore, giving you the feeling of being full? It's a strange sensation, to say the least.

And then there's another kind of emptiness. The one sitting invisibly in your aching little cunt disguised as nothingness. The toy is gone. You recall vividly how deep it's been in you, how stuck and immobile and heavy it sat between your clenching walls, but now they are fluttering around nothing. Where did it go?

You sit up, rubbing your naked arms, realizing you are indeed completely naked. Strange, didn't you go to bed with your sleep shirt? And why is it dark? It's been morning before, what happened to the rest of the day? You lean over to the lamp on your bedside table and the dark room is suddenly bathed in a warm yellow light, causing your eyes to wander straight towards your desk.

And there it is, sitting on its hefty base, the dark blue knotting dildo, in all its glory, with its curve, those ridges and nubs, and the formidable two bulbs making up the knot of the thing. You blink at the sight, confusion washing over you like a cold shiver. Slowly you stand up, groaning as you do, feeling your limbs shaking. Why are you so weak? Rubbing your stomach, you take a few steps before you almost slip on the floor.

Something wet coats the soles of your feet, and when you look down there's a big puddle of something shiny all over the wooden boards. Some of it is clear, but there's also a white shimmer to it, and you feel your heart accelerating as you remember how that came to be (even if the memory is faint, but seeing the evidence makes it all the more real and that frighteningly so). The feeling of being filled to the brim and leaking with the rest of it, the sensation of coming so hard you squirted all over the floor, while a strange force pounded your new toy into your willing body. Has it really happened? Apparently. But how is that possible?

Your heart beats faster as you keep walking until you reach the large dildo, standing proud and tall and girthy. You reach out with a shaking hand, carefully sliding your fingers over the textured shaft, tracing the thick veins on it. It feels warm and sticky, and it makes your blood run cold. It feels real, and it shouldn't. You know that. You're not crazy.

But there are too many things you just can't explain. How did it get back on the desk, back on the base you seemingly broke off last time? How was it possible that the toy fucked you on its own, in that bent-over position, and why weren't you able to move as it happened?

You feel chills all over your naked body. In that moment your rational mind just gives up. Normally you don't believe in ghosts or anything supernatural, but how else could you explain any of this? Is the toy haunted? Possessed?

It's a silicone thing, man-made, fabricated to cater to certain people's needs, a fantasy product, but it feels real, it pumped seemingly real cum into you (or so you think, it could still have been loaded with that artificial stuff without your knowledge and by squeezing it too hard you made it come out?), it fucked you as if attached to the real deal (whatever the real deal was).

Staring at the item, you lick your lips, eyes scanning every inch of its ridged surface. As creepy as this whole situation is, you still can't deny how good it felt also. How full and happy you were, how many times you came as it rammed into you, how those little nubs felt against your tense walls. They clench just remembering it. And somehow, from the darkest corner of your mind, comes the need to put it back in, feel it again, let the knot lock you up...

A shaky sigh escapes you, and you force yourself to look away from its tantalizing appeal. No. You can't. It'll all happen again, a mind-blowing fuckfest, and you'll waste another day in bed or wherever this thing wants to fuck you, or you it, it's still unclear how that happened, and maybe it was just your extremely horny mind who made up the idea of it being controlled by somebody else, maybe it has been you all along, driven crazy by sheer lust as you rammed that knot into your own cunt.

Shaking your head to clear it, you step away and into the bathroom. You spend a long time in there, inspecting and washing and handling your sore body, and when you emerge again, wrapped in a towel with your wet hair falling over your shoulders, the toy is still sitting on your desk. You watch it, but don't approach it. Instead you leave the room and venture into the kitchen to satiate the human need of eating, and after you sat at the counter and shoveled a bowl of cereal into your achingly empty stomach, you return to your bedroom.

The sight of that thing haunts you. You feel antsy just looking at it. In the end, you pick it up and put it down on the wooden desk chair, something you feel like doing, as if something put that thought into your head, a not too unfamiliar sensation. Then you pull the chair back, drop your towel and move to sit down on it. Again, you're barely thinking about it, it's like a need, an urge, a thing that feels right.

So you squat down on the toy, feeling the tapered tip pressing between your folds, and as soon as it breaches your entrance, pushing against your sore muscles, you gasp, hands curled around the edge of the desk to ground yourself as you let gravity do the rest. Or most of it. You feel the curve sinking into your tight depths, carving a way into your gummy walls, but when the knot presses against your pussy lips, you pause, breathing harder.

It feels too big, but you know it can fit inside you, it's happened before. Inhaling deeply, you try to relax, gyrating your hips to ease it into you, but your hole's too tight, unwilling to part further. You're in that weird half-squat, hovering over the chair, arms propped on the desk in front of you, and instead of giving up, you start moving up and down, fucking yourself slowly on the curved shaft, feeling those ridges and nubs and the tip poking at those delicious spots.

You're panting from the exertion, thighs burning under the strain, but you keep going even when sweat drops down your brows. You feel as if your muscles are opening up, and before your legs give in, you slam your hips down. A shrill shriek escapes you as you feel the knot stretching you open, your sensitive skin and muscles giving way, allowing it inside before they close back around it, swallowing it and the whole thing inside of you. You moan when you feel it filling you out.

Sinking a few inches further, you feel your rear pressing against the base of the toy before you sit down fully, ass cheeks on the chair, the entirety of the dildo wedged between your tight walls. A trembling exhale escapes you as you try to relax on it, your arms shaking before you bring your hands to your lap, your chest rising and falling faster, your stomach fluttering. For a few minutes you just sit there, trying to calm your frantic breaths and your rapid heartbeat, adjusting to the filling sensation.

And then, as if you haven't just impaled yourself on a knotting dildo, you reach a hand out, turn the lamp on your desk on and pull the laptop closer that you keep at the edge of it. You've missed an entire day it seems, so you're hellbent on making up for it. As your fingers fly over the keyboard, you occasionally grind your hips into the chair, relishing in the sudden jolts of pleasure/pain as the toy nudges your insides.

You sit there and work until you've edged yourself so badly, you can barely think anymore. Leaning back in your chair with your hands flat on your desk, you inhale sharply, tilting your head back as you undulate against the toy wedged between your thighs. You're so sensitive, every single motion causes you to shiver deeply. Even the hefty base of the toy rubs delightfully against your mound, adding pressure where you didn't know you needed it. A moan escapes you, and you move your hands to your rear and pull your cheeks apart until you can grind against it better.

It feels so good. To be stuffed, to be teased like this, to feel all those little details on that firm silicone shaft. You want to congratulate whoever came up with this design. It's perfect.

In an attempt to feel more of it, you lift yourself up slightly, really wanting to ride that thing now, but of course the knot prevents you from doing so, plugging you up tightly. You can still nudge the curved dildo a little deeper, so you end up humping your chair with small shallow snaps of your hips, your thighs trembling after only a few minutes, your panting breaths loud in the quiet room.

With a little whine you stand up properly, but instead of forcing the toy out from between your clenching walls, you lift up the entire thing, base and all, as it's firmly stuck inside of you. Its weight is heavy between your legs, but you still manage to stumble towards the bed with it where you throw yourself onto your back, spread your legs, lift your hips and start pushing your hands against the base, working yourself up even more.

Once your wrists cramp up under the strain, you focus on stimulating your clit, and the first touch has you already writhing on the bed. Gasping quietly, you buck your hips against your own fingers as you keep rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves until your thighs spasm wildly. You feel the tension building, the warmth gathering inside you, and then you come with a soundless half-scream, mouth wide open, legs clamping shut around your hands as you ride out the waves of pleasure, the toy practically vibrating inside you with how your walls are fluttering around it.

Your limbs go limp then, hands falling away, legs falling open, as you try to catch your breath. Eyes closed, a stupid smile on your lips, you lie there like a stranded beetle, stomach convulsing, chest heaving. You don't notice how the darkness creeps back in, dimming out the warm light of the desk and bedside table lamp. You don't feel the cold wafting in the air around you, but you do feel the dildo moving, tiny movements, little nudges against your tight muscles until it pops out with an obscenely wet squelching sound, coaxing a deep sigh out of you.

You feel utterly relieved and satisfied and content, ready to fall asleep like that, with your legs wide open, presented on the bed like a strange little offering, and whatever lurks in the shadows around you, seems to take the bait.

It feels like your bed is moving, the mattress denting on either side of your hips, and then you're being lifted a little, and it's cold and warm at the same time as your legs are pushed up and against your chest, and as if you want this to happen, your hands move to grab your thighs, holding your legs like this. In this position you are wide open, a cool breeze on your swollen clit, your cunt clenching around nothing – but not for long.

The tapered tip pushes between your folds, eagerly sinking into your slightly stretched hole, scraping along your soft walls. The curved shaft follows, digging into you, its nubs and ridges rubbing against those sensitive spots that make you mewl softly. You are in a trance, held by lust even as exhaustion wants to pull you under. You don't question anything at this point, you just savor the sensations.

And you feel everything. The shaft moves then, in and out, shallow little stabs, carving its way deeper until you feel the bulbous knot pressing against your entrance. But it doesn't go in yet, it keeps slamming against your puffy lips, the wet squelching sounds a telltale sign of how aroused you still are. There's a strange weight to the thrusts, as if there would be more than just the toy being pushed into you, it feels as if it was attached to something much bigger, a presence you can't see (not even if you would open your eyes), but can sense in a way that feeds your longing.

The pounding continues, and that warmth builds up again, all around the thick shaft that moves between your tight walls with ease and power, in and out, fast and hard, and in an angle that makes you wail, bullying all the right spots until you can't hold it in you anymore. You come with a croaked cry as your body tenses up before it explodes into nothing but bliss, tiny lights dancing behind your eyelids, that soft warmth turning into a burning that devours all of you at once.

Through your orgasm the fake cock (or so you think) keeps pumping into you, those wet squelches are obscenely loud, and you moan and whine, hips bucking to meet the thrusts as your fingers dig into your own thighs, holding your legs squished against your breasts, your feet jumping above your head with every plunge.

And then it happens, your fluttering cunt gives way to the knot, but instead of plugging you up, it pops out, then plunges into you once more, and out again and in again, and you wail under the stretch and strange sensation of being stretched repeatedly. There's pain, but there's also blinding pleasure whenever it forces itself into you, and you keep coming from that motion alone, gasping and writhing, barely able to breathe or think or do anything but let it happen.

Now the whole length of the thing pushes into you, as deep as it'll go, bullying your cervix with its tapered tip, knot fully swallowed by your walls, then it's pulled back almost entirely before doing it all over again, driving you to the edge and over it and back and over in rapid succession. It's all a blur, but it feels so good, you could die on the spot just feeling it breaching your tight space over and over again.

Luckily, you don't die, you are just pushed from orgasm to orgasm, until every single nerve ending is buzzing and tingling, and you come to the point where you don't want to come any more. Not that the thing fucking you seems to mind that very much. It keeps going, in and out, your cunt giving off a lewd wet popping sound every time the knot is forced out and another wet slurping sound every time it's pushed in and swallowed by your walls. Along with your breathless whines and the squeaking of the bed, it's a cacophony of sounds driving you to the edge of sanity, and pleasure, and pain, and all of the above.

You feel yourself fading, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but just as you think you'll drift off now, the thing in your cunt plunges particularly deep, a final thrust full of power and strength, a heavy weight pressing you down as it prods painfully against your already battered cervix. You cry out, your body too confused, so it makes you convulse all over again as another orgasm crashes through you. The curved shaft stills inside you, ridges and nubs and its knot settling against your fluttering walls, and you feel as if it's throbbing and twitching, and the bulbs seem to grow, stretching you further, really plugging you up now.

A groan slips from your dry lips as it starts pumping something warm and filling into your cramped depths. Spurt after spurt, more and more, until you can feel your stomach bulging, tensing under the growing load, and your head is spinning as your body comes down from that strenuous but still utterly pleasurable experience. You feel a little drunk almost, dizzy and disorientated, wondering why you are still holding your legs up. But you stay like this, submitting to whatever leans over you, holding you down with their cock.

The last bit of your rational mind tells you you're just dreaming. Of course you are. And what a nice dream it is, hm? But then your eyes flutter open, and you blink at the darkness around you. It feels impenetrable, too dark. Even at night, you can usually make out the shape of your furniture, the outline of your windows, the streetlamps trying to push their light past your curtains. But you can see absolutely nothing. Did you even open your eyes?

You blink. Yeah, you did. There's something eerie in the way you're staring into the black void in front of you, it gives you chills, makes your body shudder, and as you jerk a little, you feel the weight and the pressure inside of you. The toy. It's still in there, buried deep, and it keeps throbbing, spewing liquid warmth into you. It feels so real. Your heart beats faster, your breaths quicken.

Then a strange hum fills the air, you freeze immediately, your eyes widening. It's a soothing sound as much as it is terrifying. It makes you stiffen, frozen in place, a deep chill running down your spine. And then there's this huff, like an exhale, and you can feel warm air wafting towards you, hitting your sweat-slick face. A tiny little croak escapes you as fear grips your limbs after all.

There is something, holding you down, impaling you on its cock, leaning over you, breathing right against your quivering lips. You can't see it, no matter how hard you try, but it's there. Huffing and puffing in a low, deep rumble, an unseen weight resting between your legs. Hot tears fall from under your lashes, running down your cheeks, but they never reach the pillow beneath your head.

It's a warm sensation, wet, almost a little slimy, and it feels like a tongue lapping at your skin, and the thought alone pushes you right to the edge of hysteria. Helpless whimpers escape you, but that disembodied, unseen tongue keeps licking up the tears continuously spilling from your eyes. Warm breaths dry your wet cheeks, those little huffs quieter now, calm and collected, and they slowly ease your own breathing as you stare ahead at nothing but blackness.

A little shriek is coaxed out of your throat when you feel the same tongue on your neck now, something soft nudging your calves until you let go of your legs and let them fall open against whatever has settled between them. They don't reach the soft bedding beneath but are held up now by something else, and you're too far gone to question it anymore. With your legs down, your torso is exposed to the shadows, your breasts trembling as your chest rises and falls quicker.

Those warm huffs of air hit your sensitive nipples before something warm circles them, and you can feel them being pulled and teased, making you shiver deeply, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to your clit and fluttering cunt. The thick shaft inside you throbs as well, still leaking the occasional spurt of warm fluid. The knot is pulsing, tight and harder than before, or so it feels, those bulging veins on it rubbing deliciously against your stretched flesh.

You feel yourself drifting again under all these ministrations, lulled into your own darkness.

In your dreams, or whatever reality you find yourself in, you see a large shadow leaning over you. And you are calm about it, not afraid, but content. The appearance of the figure above you is hazy, like black smoke, fraying at its edges, no clear contour to make out. But what you can see (or think to see) are strong arms, a broad torso, muscles wherever you look. A display of strength and power and dominance, and in its shadow, you feel safe, protected.

You assume it's a large man, but you can't see his face. It's still too dark. But you can feel his breath on your skin, his lips trailing around your breasts, upwards to your collarbones, before you feel that warm tongue against your neck again. You tilt your head, giving him better access, and he hums deeply, showering you with little kisses and broad strokes of his tongue. Your pulse is fluttering against his mouth, and he senses your arousal, smells it. He seems to sniff you, hovering over you, warm and heavy.

“You are mine now,” you hear a low thrum in the air, assuming it's his voice. “My mate.”

You don't know what that means, but you're ready. You want it. And as if he can feel your approval, he leans in, his lips closing around your pulse, sucking softly, his teeth nibbling carefully, before you feel a different sensation. A pinch, a prick, a sudden cold stab when something sharp sinks into your skin.

You moan quietly as a strange warmth rushes through you (and out of you), the smell of metal wafting towards your nostrils, but you keep still, and without knowing what's happening, you let him bite you, mark you, and he grunts against you, holding your neck between his teeth as a shudder crashes through his big body that travels all the way to his cock buried deep inside of you. You feel it throbbing, the knot pulsing, and as your walls clench in response, you feel more warmth seeping into you as he fills you up again.

His hips grind against yours, soft little nudges, and you feel so good. An unusually gentle orgasm washes over you then, like a calming caress through your body that soothes you, eases your sore muscles, the slight pain in your neck, any other ailments you might have had. None of it matters anymore. You've found your mate. You're not alone anymore. You feel like coming home. Safe...

“What's your name?” you breathe out into the black void ready to consume you, not sure why you feel the need to ask this.

A huff of warm air moves over your face before a low hum vibrates in your ear. “Fenrir,” he growls quietly, and it's all you need to know as you inhale deeply, a soft smile grazing your lips.

Then, the darkness closes around you as if someone puts their hand over your eyes, whisking you away to sleep, or back to reality...

The next time you wake up, you are cuddled into your sheets, and the sunlight filters through your curtains. A new day, and you've never felt this refreshed before. Sitting up, you stretch with a soft squeak, rolling your neck, inhaling deeply. Your eyes move through the room, and the sight of the large dildo on your desk doesn't even confuse you anymore. It feels right to see it there. You stand up and walk past it on your way to the bathroom, your fingers sliding gently along its curved shaft.

In the midst of your morning routine, you hear the chime of your doorbell. Slipping into your fuzzy bathrobe, you hurry to the door, but when you reach it, whoever was there, is already gone. Though they left something behind. You bend down to pick up the small package, seeing your address on it and the usual postal stamps. Delivery? But you didn't expect anything.

You close the door and bring the unassuming box to your desk, putting it down next to the big toy on its base. Humming to yourself, mindlessly scratching at a spot on your neck, you open the package – and frown when you see its contents. Slowly you raise it out of its black satin bag. It's the dildo you ordered. The right size also. It's so small, barely as long as your hand, maybe the size of a soda can but much thinner, less than half the size of the toy that sits next to the opened box.

It's got the same design, the same ridges and nubs and the protruding bulbs of the knot, but it's so... tiny. You really ordered this? Apparently so, as you check the accompanying receipt and instructions. You can only half-remember that horny night when you browsed the site, and intimidated as you were, you chose the smallest size: Mini. You had no idea it would be this small. There's a picture of the different available sizes, and you realize the thing you actually fit into your cunt is the Large one. And just how large it is...

You shiver just thinking of having it inside you. But you also can't wait to put it back in. Your mind is hazy with memories of using it, of what really happened since you got it (and somehow you don't even wonder why you received two packages), and it's all a blur of ecstasy that makes you salivate and drip into the panties you put on.

Yet when you notice that the article has a name, you pause, blinking in confusion, your hand still scratching at what feels like a scabby wound on your neck. The name of the dildo feels familiar, like a distant memory, and it is –

As soon as you say it out loud, the big dark blue toy starts humming, its vibrations (even though you're not connected to it) sending shock waves through your whole body, activating all the right nerves. Your heart beats faster, your breaths turn into soft moans, and your cunt clenches hungrily around nothing.

“Fenrir.”

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

#x reader #x reader smut #monsterfucker #monster x reader #werewolf smut #original fiction #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #monster au #supernatural smut #joel miller smut #simon ghost riley smut #arthur morgan smut #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #f!reader #fem reader #terato #teratophillia

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librababe99 · 3 months ago

Text

Lumbered Love

❥・CW: Minors DNI, 18+, Lumberjack! Logan, Fem! Reader, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, sexual themes ❥・Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Feeling worn from your city life, you decide to take advantage of the cabin your grandfather left you. Soon you form a connection with a rugged lumberjack who lives nearby...

The crunch of leaves beneath your boots was the only sound in the crisp morning air as you made your way through the dense forest. The towering trees formed a natural canopy above, allowing slivers of sunlight to filter through and dance on the forest floor. You’d always loved the peace that came with being in the woods, but today was different. Today, there was an undercurrent of excitement, a tingling in your fingertips, as you followed the path that would lead you to him.

Logan.

Even the thought of his name sent a shiver down your spine. He was a man of few words, but his presence spoke volumes. Ruggedly handsome with a body carved from years of hard work, Logan was the epitome of a man who lived off the land. His thick, muscular arms and broad shoulders hinted at the strength he possessed, while his sharp eyes held a depth that made you feel as though he could see right through you.

You’d first met Logan several months ago when you’d decided to escape the chaos of city life and take a break at the cabin your grandfather had left you. It was a quaint little place, nestled deep in the woods, far from the nearest town. It was here, among the trees and the wildflowers, that you had found peace—and something more.

You hadn’t expected to see anyone when you first arrived, let alone a man like Logan. He had appeared at your door one afternoon, his flannel shirt open at the collar, revealing a dusting of dark chest hair. He’d said he lived nearby, just a short walk through the woods, and had noticed the smoke from your chimney. Polite enough to check in, yet with an air of rugged independence that made you curious.

As the weeks went by, you found yourself looking forward to his visits. Logan would stop by to chop wood or fix something around the cabin, always with a silent understanding that made you feel both safe and unsettled at the same time. He was a man of the wilderness, and his connection to nature was palpable, almost primal.

But it wasn’t just his skill with an axe or his knowledge of the woods that drew you in. It was the way he looked at you, with eyes that held a hunger that matched your own. You had caught him staring at you more than once, his gaze lingering on your curves, his jaw tightening as though he was holding something back.

You reached the clearing where Logan’s cabin stood, nestled among the trees like a well-kept secret. The scent of pine and earth filled your nostrils, grounding you as you approached. The wooden structure was simple but sturdy, much like the man who lived within it. You hesitated at the door, your heart pounding in your chest, before raising your hand to knock.

Before your knuckles could make contact, the door swung open, revealing Logan in all his rugged glory. He wore a simple grey t-shirt that clung to his broad chest, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his powerful forearms. His dark hair was tousled, and a light scruff covered his jawline, giving him an even more dangerous edge.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up,” Logan said, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I didn’t want to come too early,” you replied, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to steady your nerves. There was something in the air between you two—electric and undeniable.

He stepped aside, allowing you to enter the cabin. The space inside was warm and inviting, the fire crackling in the stone hearth casting a soft glow over the wooden walls. It was cozy, but there was something else about it that made your pulse quicken—the unmistakable scent of him that lingered in the air.

Logan moved to the small kitchen area, his movements fluid and precise as he grabbed a kettle from the stove and poured two mugs of coffee. He handed you one, his fingers brushing against yours as he did, the brief contact sparking a heat deep within you.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip of the hot brew, though it did little to calm the storm brewing inside you.

Logan’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, alone in the woods, with nothing but the crackle of the fire and the pounding of your heart to fill the silence.

“You’ve been comin’ around a lot,” Logan said, his voice rough like the bark of the trees outside. His gaze was intense, piercing, as though he was searching for something in your eyes.

“I like it here,” you admitted, unable to look away from him. “It’s peaceful.”

“Peaceful, huh?” Logan’s lips quirked into a half-smile, but there was something dark and hungry in his eyes. “Is that all?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken desire. Your breath hitched as you realized what he was really asking. All those times you’d found excuses to visit the cabin, to be near him—it wasn’t just the peace you were seeking. It was him. His presence, his strength, his rough edges that made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in years.

You set the coffee mug down on the table, your hand trembling slightly. “Logan…”

His name was a whisper on your lips, but it was enough. In an instant, he was there, closing the distance between you with a single, purposeful stride. His hands were on your waist, pulling you close, his body heat seeping into your skin even through the fabric of your clothes.

“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ for this,” Logan growled, his voice thick with need. His lips hovered just inches from yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

“Then don’t wait,” you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Logan’s mouth crashed against yours, his kiss hungry and demanding. You moaned into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as you pressed yourself against him, needing to feel every inch of his body against yours.

Logan’s hands roamed over your body, his touch rough and possessive, as though he was claiming you as his own. You arched into him, your body responding to his every touch, his every kiss. His lips left a trail of fire down your neck, his stubble grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver with pleasure.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Logan murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “I’ve been wantin’ to touch you like this since the day I met you.”

You gasped as his hands found their way under your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatened to drown you. But you didn’t care. All that mattered was Logan—his touch, his kiss, the way he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

Your hands found the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The sight of his bare chest, the muscles rippling beneath his tanned skin, made your breath catch in your throat. You ran your hands over his chest, feeling the strength and power beneath your fingertips.

Logan’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched you, his hands moving to your shirt, pulling it off with the same urgency. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every curve, every inch of skin exposed to him.

“You’re mine,” Logan growled, his voice thick with possession. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “All mine.”

“Yes,” you gasped, your head falling back as his lips found your collarbone, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you tremble with need. “I’m yours, Logan. All yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in him, his touch growing rougher, more demanding. He lifted you off the ground as though you weighed nothing, carrying you to the bed in the corner of the room. He laid you down gently, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress in the most delicious way.

Logan’s lips found yours again, his kiss fierce and possessive. His hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your body aching for more, for him, for everything he had to give.

“Please, Lo,” you begged, your voice barely a whisper. “I need you.”

He growled low in his throat, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. “You’re gonna get me, darlin’. Every last inch.”

And with that, he claimed you, body and soul. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the heat of passion and the wild, untamed love that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

In Logan’s arms, you found a fire that burned hotter than anything you’d ever known. A fire that consumed you, body and soul, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. As you lay in his arms, your bodies tangled together, the world outside the cabin ceased to exist. There was only Logan, his touch, his kiss, his love, and in that moment, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the cabin, you found yourself wrapped in Logan’s arms, his body warm and solid against yours. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, the only sound in the quiet of the evening. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, the rhythm grounding you in the present, in this perfect moment.

Logan's hand traced gentle patterns along your back, his fingers grazing your skin with a tenderness that was a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier passion. You nestled closer, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, his breathing deep and steady, mirroring your own contentment.

"How long are you stayin' this time?" he asked quietly, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through his chest.

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, your fingers absently tracing the scars that marked his body—evidence of a life lived hard and fast, of battles fought and won. "I don't know," you admitted, your voice soft. "I don’t really have a reason to go back."

Logan's eyes darkened with something you couldn’t quite read, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d said too much. But then he shifted, turning on his side to face you, his hand cupping your cheek with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

"Good," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lips. "Stay as long as you want. Hell, stay forever if you want. This place... it’s better with you here."

Your breath caught in your throat at the vulnerability in his words. Logan wasn't a man who opened up easily, and you knew what it took for him to say something like that. You smiled, leaning into his touch, pressing a soft kiss to his palm.

"I like the sound of that," you whispered, the truth of your feelings shining through your words. "This place... it feels like home now."

Logan’s expression softened, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as though he never wanted to let you go. And maybe he wouldn’t. The thought sent a warm thrill through you, settling in your chest like a beacon of light.

The two of you lay there in the fading light, wrapped in each other’s arms, content to let the world outside pass by. There was no need for words; the silence between you was filled with understanding, with a connection that ran deeper than anything you had ever known.

As the night wore on, the stars began to appear in the sky, twinkling like tiny beacons in the dark expanse above. Logan shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

"You’ve changed somethin’ in me," he confessed, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn’t think I’d ever find somethin’ like this... like you. But here you are, and now I don’t wanna let go."

Your heart melted at his words, and you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. "You don’t have to," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to."

He shook his head, his gaze never leaving yours. "No," he said firmly, his voice resolute. "I want you here. With me. Always."

The depth of his conviction took your breath away, and tears welled up in your eyes as you pulled him down for a kiss, pouring all the love and passion you felt into that one simple act. Logan responded in kind, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made you feel cherished, treasured.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling with his as you both caught your breath. "I love you, Logan," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could think to hold them back.

Logan’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you feared you had said too much. But then his expression softened, and he smiled—a real, genuine smile that made your heart soar.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "More than I ever thought I could."

And just like that, the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. In that moment, you knew that you had found something rare and precious, something that would last a lifetime. Logan was your home now, and you were his.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the two of you as you lay entwined in each other’s arms, content to simply be together. The world outside might have been vast and wild, but here, in this cabin in the woods, you had found something even more powerful—a love that was raw and untamed, yet tender and true.

As sleep began to claim you, you pressed one last kiss to Logan’s lips, your heart full to bursting with the love you felt for him. "Forever," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the night.

"Forever," Logan echoed, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you close, his breath warm against your skin.

And with that, you drifted off to sleep, safe and secure in the arms of the man you loved, knowing that no matter what the future held, you would face it together. For you had found something in these woods—something wild and beautiful, something that would never fade.

You had found each other.

#logan howlett #james logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine smut #logan x f!reader #lumberjack logan #lumberjack logan x fem reader #marvel #xmen fanfiction #x-men fandom #strangers to friends #friends to lovers #xmen origins #hugh jackman #save me lumberjack logan

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tinalbion · 3 months ago

Note

Hi Tina!!!

I just saw your requests are open for Logan...❤️‍🔥

Might I request something a wee bit nsfw? (actually completely nsfw if I'm being honest here) I just saw a tiktok that did a deep dive into wolverine's animalistic instincts and I seriously cannot stop thinking about it.

Those instincts in bed? yes please

With that being said can we get some biting and possessiveness up in here. I was thinking maybe Logan is a bit embarrassed by it but reader is completely accepting. It's mating szn and Logan's in heat 🥵🥵🥵

'𝐈 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with some plot, kitchen sex, fem!Reader, unprotected p in v, biting/ marking, possessiveness, jealousy, animalistic tendencies, canon typical language, dirty talk, Logan gets embarrassed by being a little freak

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 5.2k

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: My lovely friend @nepptunez also asked for some animalistic Logan, and I want to make a little drabble about that later, but definitely needed to get this out of my system 😅 But I hope you both enjoy!

It was always the same thing when you and Logan had your times together, you would have this song and dance around one another, and he was hesitant and reserved while you were craving him in unspeakable ways, but it always ended up in a heated and frustrated session that left you breathless regardless. But there was always something about Logan that seemed to feel off to you like he was hiding something. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize you both, you had much more trust in him than you had in anyone in your life, so you wanted to get to the bottom of it before making it a big deal.

You had no idea where to start or how to figure out what was ailing him, but you knew he’d been through a lot in the past, you never held that against him. Maybe it had something to do with trying to trust himself to open up, you knew he was a tough egg to crack most days. Either way, you sat at the kitchen table with your drink, scrolling through your phone aimlessly as if your mind was somewhere else.

Logan walked in, waking up slowly from sleep as he wiped the rest from his eyes, he saw you awake already, which wasn’t usual but it didn’t bother him. “Mornin’,” he grumbled as he shuffled to the coffee pot.

You smiled as you looked up at him, watching as he rolled his shoulders, cracking the bones and stretching his muscles. “Morning, Logan, sleep well?”

“Yeah. You’re up early.” Always the man of few words in the mornings. He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, staring at you as he adjusted to the sunlight.

You peeked over at him with a smile and shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, my brain never turns off when I want it to,” you laughed, trying to avoid the conversation you were dreading, you just wanted to figure out what his problem was without getting him upset, especially if it meant him having to work through some unresolved issues. You hated forcing him to talk about it, knowing he’d spit it out when he was good and ready.

Logan nodded as he listened, his cup brought to his lips as he watched you, your heartbeat picked up slightly, as did your temperature. He took notice of these things, but he never commented on them, not unless it became too much of a problem in his eyes. “I get that,” he said softly, drinking more of his coffee from the mug in his hand.

“Speaking of, I noticed you haven’t been dreaming as much,” you pointed out with a genuine smile. “I’m happy something is working for you,” you said with a hum that followed.

This made his eyes flicker away from you, feeling almost, what, shame, embarrassment? He wasn’t sure, but it was a good point; he hadn’t been waking up with as many nightmares as before. Logan had just let out a huff in reply and nodded before taking another sip of his coffee. “I suppose I haven’t,” he mused. “Guess I have that goin’ for me.”

You just stared up at him softly and offered a kind smile. “Yeah, I’m happy about that, means you can finally get some good sleep,” you joked and stood up from your chair, walked up to him, and kissed his cheek gently as you grabbed more coffee. “Oh, by the way, I got some errands to run, so if you need anything you can let me know, okay?”

Logan had always gone with you on your errands, especially since getting used to this world, the one that was still foreign to him, but this time, he sensed your hesitancy. He shot you a look and seemed almost offended. “I ain’t goin’ with you?” He asked.

“Well, you can stay home and relax if you want, it’s just gonna be a quick thing,” you said softly, pouring some creamer into your cup and mixing it.

Logan didn’t like that, he didn’t like the quick brush-off or how you insisted he stay behind. Maybe it was just you wanting him to relax, not to become too overwhelmed considering all of this was still new to him. But something in the way you were acting was getting him slightly riled up. He watched you carefully as you walked back to your seat, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He didn’t want you to leave the house without him, it felt wrong, and he understood this thought process was… not right, it was stupid. But why was he growing irritated with the thought of you leaving him here?

You scrolled through your phone a bit and checked the weather, seeing how warm it would be today, then you finished your coffee and smiled as you stood up, looking at Logan as he continued to look miserable. You looked at him with your brows furrowed, he seemed to be avoiding your gaze.

“Logan, is everything okay?” You asked him as you always did, and he would probably respond the way he always did.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

There it was. You sighed a little but nodded and smiled softly up at him. “Okay, if you need to talk, just let me know, but I should be back soon. Maybe I could pick up something for dinner.”

His expression shifted but only a little. “Sure, that sounds good, princess,” he replied and suddenly pulled you into his embrace, one arm tightly wrapped around you as he buried his face in your hair.

He loved your smell, your scent was one of the things that grounded him when he got in these moods, and it was tough for him to release you, but you said you’d be back soon, there was nothing to worry about. He was just overreacting, maybe he had an off night, and didn’t sleep enough, he tried to explain it away even though he knew what his problem was.

“Okay, be careful, yeah?”

This made you hum softly, your smile widened as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. “Always am, be back soon, big guy,” you said and leaned up on your tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Logan let out a satisfied hum, which could have been mistaken for a growl of happiness, and placed a firm kiss on your head. “Hurry back,” he said his tone still gruff. He was hesitant to let you go, but the sooner you left, the sooner you’d come back to him.

He didn’t have the patience to deal with Wade right now, and thankfully, he was off being whisked away by his girl, Vanessa. As much as Logan appreciated the way they tried to include him, this time of year was always the most difficult, but even more so with you here. He would just have to wait it out if he could repress the urges…

Logan paced back and forth in your shared space, his instincts were going crazy right now as he tried to find ways to calm himself. Before you, he had never really had an issue controlling himself or his urges, they had always been there, kept at bay, but something about you being here with him made him feel ten times more on edge. He was an animal, everyone in his life reminded him of that, and that was true to a fault.

This time of year was the worst, the most on edge he ever was, and he couldn’t control it around you for much longer. Leaving wasn’t an option, keeping you at a distance wasn’t either, so he fought it. It was only a few days he dealt with the heat rising in his body, the way his senses were heightened and he could smell you clearer than ever, but the ache he felt in his stomach and between his legs was growing more and more unbearable to handle. If he could just have a taste, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad… but the thought of hurting you kept him at bay, that was the last thing Logan wanted, and he couldn’t think of what would happen if he did…

While he was pacing back home, you were out grabbing some things, running errands, and doing what you always had on your weekends off. It was your ‘me time’ as you got your favorite drink from the cafe down the street and drove to the grocery store to grab some things for the weekend. You had a great dinner in mind you wanted to make for Logan, so you made sure to make a list of everything you needed. As you were halfway through, some guy was looking at you hard down the aisle. It seemed like a familiar face, but you weren’t sure. As you walked closer, it was definitely a familiar face.

“Oh my gosh, is that you, Danny?” You asked.

The man’s face lit up and he smiled wide as he stepped up and reached an arm out, hugging you briefly. “Wow, is that you?” He asked with the same tone of surprise. “You look great! How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you since, what, end of middle school?”

You laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I think so, that felt like ages ago, didn’t it?” You asked with a wide smile. “How’s life?”

“Ah well, had a wife, divorced, got a great kid out of it though. You?”

You shrugged and smiled. “Not married, but seeing someone, he’s great. Different. No kids.”

Danny smiled and shrugged in return. “They’re not for everyone, but I hope your guy is treatin’ you nice. It’s great to see you though, we should catch up one day. I’m usually at the coffee shop down the road every Sunday, it’s my one day of peace.”

“Maybe I could meet you there next week!” You hummed with a smile and hugged him again. “Be seeing you!”

Enough distractions, you had brought up Logan and you felt that little voice inside your head, you missed him and just wanted to sit next to him right now. So you hurried through the grocery store, ran one more errand, and drove home as soon as you could.

You got home and entered through the door with your arms full, but Logan was already there with his arms open to grab the bags from you. “Oh, thanks, Lo,” you smiled as you walked in with your single bag in tow.

He had stopped for a moment and sniffed heavily where you stood, his face contorted from stoic to completely annoyed. You were none the wiser as you began to put away everything in the cabinets, smiling as you were just happy to be back home. Facing away from you, his jaw clenched hard as you began to talk about your errands, about how you had some ideas you both could do around town if he wanted to try something new, but after a while, you weren’t sure that he was listening.

“Logan, you okay?” You asked softly as you walked around the kitchen table and stood behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He tensed beneath your touch and turned slightly to peek over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine, just listenin’,” he grumbled.

You looked up at him and squeezed him gently, staring with concern in your features. “You sure, Logan? You’ve been acting off the past few days and I was hoping it wasn’t something I’ve done.”

Logan sniffed the air, smelling the assaulting scent on your clothes, it was strong and he did not like it one bit. “Where were you today?” he asked suddenly.

With a small step backward, you stared at him in confusion and slight irritation. “I told you I went to run errands, pick up groceries, as I do every weekend. Logan, what are you implying?”

“You got some asshole’s smell on you, it’s strong, it’s infuriating,” he growled, turning around quickly to walk up to you, towering above you. “So whatever happened out there is really pissin’ me off.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, then your face lit up in realization. “Oh, I saw an old friend from school, he hugged me, that’s it. Told him a little about you, told him you were great.”

Logan could hear what you were saying, but the senses in him were on high alert and they didn’t care what you said to this guy about him. You smelled like him, like some stranger, he needed to change that and fast. He backed you up against the nearby wall his figure towered over you while one hand was placed beside your head while the other was splayed across the top of your chest and collarbone. He was holding back, you could see it, he was trying not to lose himself.

You placed your hand on his chest and looked up at him, your eyes staring directly into his. “Logan, what’s been going on with you this week?” You asked softly, your gentle voice pulling him into a pit of desire.

“I…” he paused and wondered if this was even something he should be telling you. This was incredibly embarrassing, what would you think of him then after he told you? He huffed and looked away, annoyance etched into his features while he tried to avoid yet another awkward situation.

Your hand was placed on his cheek, pulling his face to look at you. “Logan, you know you can tell me anything,” you cooed softly, smiling up at him like that… It slowly began to chip away at the walls he had built for himself, and when it came to speaking of things about himself, that was a different story. “You're okay, right?”

Logan sighed as his eyes flickered away from you, but then a surge of rage came over him at the smell of that stranger on you, his face contorted with anger and he lunged forward, grabbed you by the waist, and lifted you onto the counter. He stepped between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

“You want to know if I'm okay?” He growled, his face inches from yours.

“Of course, I do!” You said with surprise and slight offense. “I always want to make sure you're alright.”

His grip on your hips tightened, and he leaned in even closer, his eyes burning into yours. “The only way you can make sure I'm fine is by leaving me alone,” he whispered harshly, his breath hot against your skin. “Go now, while I still have some shred of control left.”

You stared at him in surprise, and then looked annoyed he'd even suggested such a thing. “No.”

His expression darkened, and with a growl, his hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, just enough to cause you the least amount of pain as he pulled your head back, exposing your pretty throat to him, smiling as his nose glided across your throat as he inhaled for a moment. He bit down and hard, sinking his teeth into you. He sucked and bit, marking you, his other hand gripping your hip possessively as his body pressed against yours. He was marking you physically, then rubbing his scent all over your body to show you just who you belonged to.

You cried out loudly, your hands gripped his arms to try and pry him off of you because of the pain, but soon, it was mixing with the urge of wanting to feel his teeth in other places.

As you leaned closer against him, he could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it made his head swim. Once he pulled away from marking you, Logan leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "I'm fine," he growled under his breath. “I just…”

“What?” You urged gently, feeling your entire body ignite with a mixture of fear, arousal, and thrill.

Logan couldn't think straight. The sight of you, the way you smelled and tasted, everything about you was driving him to the edge of wanting to completely lose himself. His hands moved up your body, gripping your shirt and pulling it roughly over your head, revealing your undergarments. "You always test me, even when you're not meanin’ to do a damn thing, you're always wanting me to lose myself in you.”

"Logan, you've never acted like this before..." you replied softly, shivering from the sheer jolt of excitement that shot through your entire body. You felt the excitement pooling between your legs as he placed his hands on your thighs.

He lifted his thumb to trace the outline of your lips before he leaned in to kiss you again. He could feel your body pressed against his and it was almost too much to bear. "Fuck," he growled, "you make me want to lose control, doll… I want to… to do things to do that would show others that you're mine, you hear me?”

You looked up at him, the smell of your arousal was strong in his nose, and he was using all he had to hold himself back. While he held onto your thighs, his hands shot out and pulled at your wrists, pulling your entire body against his as he captured your lips in his, his kiss urgent and demanding as his fingers dug into your skin. He didn’t mean to cause you any pain, he was just so overwhelmed to get that smell off of you, to make sure anyone who had dared come near you would know just who you belonged to.

Your hands began to pull at the hem of his tank top, yanking it from being tucked into his jeans while your lips were still locked with his, but Logan pulled away faster than you could blink, growling low in his throat as he tossed off the tank top to the floor. His chest was heaving, his muscles tensed as his breathing was heavy. His face lingered closely, his gaze hungry as his eyes, dark with desire, stared into yours.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he said in a low tone.

This made you smile; despite all he was pissed about and all that would happen, he still had the decency to dote on you, love you, and compliment you. In his special way, of course, but he never failed to surprise you. Your hands were then placed on his chest, admiring the muscles, the chest hair, and him overall. “And you’re perfect,” you replied sweetly.

He smiled back at you, a cocky grin at first, slowly fading into a gentle grin as his expression softened momentarily before his gaze turned intense. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra, pulling it off with a quick yank, and tossed it aside. His eyes fell to your breasts, his hands shaking with the effort of controlling himself. When you saw the hesitation, you couldn’t stop from grabbing his massive hands and placing them on your chest, giving him that silent permission. He groaned as his thumbs grazed over your nipples, then he leaned down and sucked one into his mouth, his other hand pinched and rolled the other nipple between his fingers. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh.

He pulled away and licked his lips. “Fuck, I love your tits,” he hummed before placing the other in his mouth.

You arched your back in reply, your breathing was already shaky as you felt his hands doing the bare minimum while your body responded in ways you didn’t think it could. You could feel yourself leaking through your underwear, pooling between your legs as Logan was making sure to put his mouth anywhere he could, marking you with his sharp teeth. “Fuck, Logan,” you whined.

He released your nipple with a pop and looked into your eyes, his gaze intense. “You smell fucking perfect, so wet for me and I’ve barely done a thing to you.” He reached his hand between your legs and began to rub your clit through your shorts, his fingers pressed against your soaked fabric. “Damn, you are,” he mused.

You wiggled as you tried to buck your hips to the best of your abilities, but standing wasn’t your strong suit, so you just whined and wished he’d take you already. You were always so willing when he was around you, it didn’t matter what state of mind you were in, you needed him as much as he needed you. You swallowed and panted before looking directly into his eyes.

“Logan, please,” you urged.

“Please what? Use your words, baby girl. Tell me.” He moved his fingers and hooked them onto the waistband of your shorts, tugging at them playfully. “Want these off?”

You nodded eagerly and shimmied out of them as fast as you could, your hands helping him with getting rid of them. “I want you to fuck me,” you breathed, your chest heaving from the excitement. “But you need to ditch those jeans…”

Logan chuckled and quickly unbuttoned, then unzipped his jeans, shoving them down his legs along with his boxers. His hard cock sprung free, already leaking with precum. “Mhm, fuck, got me so excited already,” he grumbled.

“Can’t help it,” you purred in response, watching him carefully as he stepped back toward you, ripping off your underwear with one fluid motion, causing you to gasp.

“I know you can’t,” he said softly as he suddenly grabbed you by your hips, making sure to have your legs wrapped around his waist as he moved you toward the counter, setting you down on the surface. “Now spread those legs and show me your pussy,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire.

You wouldn’t deny him this, so you nodded and leaned back, your hands flat on the counter as you spread your legs open for him, seeing just how wet you’d been for him. Your face was so red, so warm from seeing Logan in such a state that you couldn’t speak much after his eyes raked over you, landing on your soaked heat.

He groaned low at the sight and stepped between your open thighs, grabbed your hips, and pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, the cool marble against your backside. “Wrap your arms around my neck,” Logan instructed. “And your legs around my waist.”

You nodded and did as he told you, scooting forward against the marble eagerly as your legs and arms wrapped around his body.

Logan gripped your ass with both hands and tilted your hips upward. “Atta girl,” he cooed as he began to rub his throbbing cock against your wet folds a few times, teasing you and readying himself. “Look at me,” he said gruffly.

You stared up at him, your eyes wide with eagerness as he planned on taking you here in the kitchen. “Logan,” you breathed softly, wanting to say so much to him, but you couldn’t find the words.

He met your gaze, his eyes burned with intensity. “I’m going to fucking destroy that tight little pussy,” he growled, lining himself up with your entrance. “And you’re gonna love every second of it.”

Your breathing grew heavier as your entire body shivered upon hearing his promise. Of course, you’d love every second, you always loved any attention Logan showered you with. “Yes, Lo, please,” you begged.

He doesn't waste any more time, so with one swift thrust, he buried himself inside of you to the hilt. "Goddamn, you feel so fucking good," he groaned, his head dropped to your shoulder as he fought for control. "You're so wet, so tight.”

You gasped and you moaned out loudly, feeling his cock pushed all the way, bottoming out as you breathed heavily. The sting of his stretch felt so good, that you clung to his body as you tried to ground yourself. "Fuck, Lo, you're so big..”

He grinned at your words and started to piston his hips, slamming into you over and over again. "You just take it," he commanded. "Every inch of me. You wanted it so bad, didn't you? You needed me to fill you up. Show you who you belonged to.”

"Y-Yes, fuck, oh my god, Logan!" You cried out, your nails digging into his arms as he plowed into you.

Logan's eyes flashed with a primal hunger and he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Say my name again," he growled in your ear. “Tell me who you belong to.”

You gasped and stared into his eyes as his hand wrapped around your throat. "You, Logan!" You cried out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked when he heard his name, feeling your pulse racing under his thumb. He squeezed tighter and started to fuck into you harder. "Good girl," he praised. "Say it again.”

You cried out with each hard thrust, smiling as he used his hand to choke you. "F-Fuck, Logan!”

His grin widened, baring his teeth at you. "Louder. Let the whole house hear who's making you scream." He sped up his movements, his hips slapped against your backside with every powerful thrust. "Come on, baby.”

"LOGAN!" You cried out loudly once more, his hips slapping into yours as you tried your best to hold onto the counter, shaking beneath him.

The sound of his name echoing in the kitchen spurred him on. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and sucked hard, no doubt leaving another mark. "Legs around my waist," he grunted, his voice muffled against your skin.

You did as you were told and made sure to tighten your legs around his waist, panting heavily as he scooted you even closer to his body. Logan started to fuck you more roughly, holding you up easily with your legs around his waist. His thrusts became even harder, every collision making your whole body shake. "I want you to know you’re mine, you understand me? No one can make you feel the way I do.”

“L-Logan, won't last long like this,” you said between gritted teeth and breaths that were pulled from you, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he buried himself inside of you.

His face contorted in pleasure as he growled against your neck. "Then we'll come together.” He grunted with effort, his abs tightened as he drove into you again and again, his rhythm becoming more erratic. "Touch yourself, need you to come on my cock.”

You reached between your bodies and began to sloppily rub your clit as he thrusts into you, your body shivering heavily as you could feel that coil deep within you wanting to snap. It was difficult to keep going with Logan pounding into you mercilessly, but you needed to appease him, or else who knew how long he'd keep this up.

He groaned encouragingly, his voice hoarse with passion. "That's it, baby. You're so close, I can feel you tightening around me.”

He grunted again, his own release drawing closer. His hips jackhammer between your thighs, the wet sounds of their joining filling the room.

"Ahhh, fuck, Logan, gonna-gonna," you started, attempting to survive just a few more moments until you came undone. "Coming!" You cried out, your entire body clenching around Logan’s as you clung to him.

Hearing your cries of pleasure, Logan plunged deep inside you one final time as he too reached his peak. He threw back his head and roared out his release while he moved his hands to your outer thighs, already feeling the familiar sensation of his claws protracting as his entire body tensed, his vision whited out as he lost all sense of being. "Fuck!" His fingers dug into your skin, the tips turning white from the strain as he held you in place, his arms like steel around you as he rode out his orgasm, the added intensity of his claws keeping you from moving as his hot seed spilled deep inside you, filling you up.

"Mine," he growled possessively, his voice shaking with exertion and emotion. "You're fucking mine, always."

"Yours," you said breathlessly as you rested your head against his shoulder while your arms wrapped around his chest.

Logan's arms slowly relaxed while his claws retracted, and he gently unraveled your legs from his waist, letting your feet find the floor once more. He pressed soft, lingering kisses to your neck and shoulders, kissing over the dark-colored bruises and hickeys he left along your neck and collarbone, then rested his head back on your shoulder as he slumped over.

“‘M sorry, dunno what… came over me… that's…” He stopped and kept his head lowered.

You just laughed and wrapped your arms around his body, pulling him close as you gently rubbed his back. “Don't apologize,” you cooed softly. “You’re just worked up.”

“No, it’s… not just that, it’s somethin’ else. I get… in these moods, like,” he groaned and shook his head slightly, already feeling the embarrassment flooding his face. “Like animals in mating season; territorial, possessive. Can’t help it sometimes and your smells drive me insane.”

That was it, that’s why he’d been acting weirdly jealous, clingy, and just wanting to be closer. “Oh, oh!” you said softly as you looked down at him, smiling even wider now. He shared a new part of himself with you, something he found awkward to speak about, and he opened up. You brushed his hair gently, running your fingers through it as you couldn’t hide your smile. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He lifted his head slowly to look up at you. “You’re not… freaked out by it?” He asked, his brows furrowed together.

You just chuckled in response. “No, of course not, why would I be?” You continued to run your hand across his hair, comforting him to the best of your abilities. “Logan, when I said I accepted you, that was all of you,” you explained.

This took him off guard, surprised him even, but your words had made his stomach stir, and he couldn’t stop from grabbing you and pulling you against him. You melted in his grasp, smiling wide as you wrapped your arms around him, showing him you were here for him. All of him. Logan didn’t have to say anything, he wasn’t a man of words, more of action, so when you wouldn’t pull away from him in moments like these, it showed that you were a woman of action, too.

His arms wrapped even tighter around you, his chest still heaving slightly as his breath slowly returned, and he couldn’t help but nuzzle into the crook of your neck. “You’re really okay with it?” He asked again.

“Ssh, Logan, just accept that I might actually like it when you get possessive,” you said playfully, planting a kiss on the side of his head.

Logan smiled softly, nuzzling your neck as the urge to mark you washed over him once again, his mouth opened slightly while his tongue gently darted out to slide across your throat. “Good,” he mumbled against your skin. “Then you won’t mind if we take this to the room,” he added, looking up at you with that primal hunger gleaming in his eyes once again.

“I don’t mind at all, especially since it’s you.”

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loganhowlettshousewife · 28 days ago

Text

animal

chapter 2

warnings: mentions of blood

series masterlist │my masterlist

you wake up slowly, blinking sluggishly at the ceiling. your memories of the previous day come rushing in, and you can’t help but wonder if it was all some kind of fever dream. but when you sit up in bed, that thought is immediately thrown away, because logan is curled up on the floor watching you, staring.

“how long have you been awake?” you ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. he just tilts his head, listening but giving you no indication of the answer to your question.

you’d set him up in the guest bedroom last night. he had laid down on top of the covers, the same way he was positioned on your floor now, and though you had wanted to pull the covers over his body, you decided to let him do what was most comfortable, most natural, to him. you had already thrown quite a bit of new his way, best to let him process it all.

you don’t know at what point he’d migrated from the guest room to your floor, but he’s here now. he had been watching you sleep. a wave of anxiety washes over you - what do you look like when you sleep? do you drool? is it unattractive?

(they’re certainly not the thoughts you should be having when a man you hardly know watches you sleep, but he’s hot and oddly endearing.)

he rises up to his feet only seconds after you, and you have to tell him not to follow you into the bathroom, to which he growls.

later, you’re sitting at the table with logan, eating the breakfast you’d cooked up. you had to teach him how to use a fork, which was terribly entertaining, and even now he looks dismayed at not being able to eat with his hands, having to pick up the food with a metal instrument instead. he stabs the fork loudly every time he brings it down, as if to communicate his disapproval, but he doesn’t look truly angry, just pouty.

“are you going to follow me around all day again?” you ask, “because i don’t mind, but i just wanted to let you know that i have quite a few things on my to-do list.”

he stops eating, stares at you for a few seconds, nods, and then continues as if you hadn’t spoken.

one of your favourite parts of living outside of a city is the nature, the space, the green that surrounds you with your favourite thing: plants. your grandmother had taken care of a gorgeous garden of fruits and vegetables and herbs for as long as you could remember, teaching a starry-eyed child version of you everything she knew. you’re the one left with the responsibility now.

you clean the dishes, humming to yourself, logan behind you, and when you’re done, you lead him outside. you bask in the sunlight of the outdoors, each step in the dewy grass a thrill. there’s a morning chill in the air, the new-day sun having not quite warmed your surroundings yet.

you remind logan to be careful of where he steps, talking him through your long list of things for him not to do, so lost in the one-sided conversation that you don’t even notice when he stops before the garden starts. you look back at him, confused that he’s not trailing you anymore, but he doesn’t leave either, he just sits down on the grass.

a warmth blooms in your chest. you don’t know his thoughts or his intentions, but you want to think he stopped because he could tell how much you didn’t want him messing with the plants, your domain, the happy place of your childhood.

the best part about assuming these things about logan is that he can’t correct you, so you can create a little version of him in your head that thinks about you and looks at you the way you look at him. it’s been two days - not even, it’s been a day and a half. could you be any more pathetically starved of love and affection?

well, no, you think to yourself.

it doesn’t take you long to finish up the watering and weeding, checking around for any more problems that you might not catch at first glance. you take your time harvesting what you can, placing it all in two cute woven baskets you brought out with you.

you’re already thinking of the food you could make for logan, giddy with excitement at finally getting to feed someone other than yourself. you love taking care of others, it’s one of your love languages, or maybe it’s just a way for you to feel needed in the hopes that people won’t leave you if you do enough for them. either way, you’ve always genuinely enjoyed cooking, but you can’t do it as much when there’s only one person in the house to feed.

and logan had eaten a lot, last night. he’s big, of course, it’s to be expected, but you suppose you haven’t been close enough with anyone to share food in a while, so it’s strange.

when you return to logan’s side, smiling brightly, he smiles back at you. it’s the first smile you’ve seen on his face, the first expression other than a snarl, a look of confusion, or the expressionless stare he directs towards you. and wow, it lights up his features, turns everything soft, like the world has blurred just slightly, the kind of unclear image that tells you you’re in a dream.

“you’re pretty when you smile,” you say without meaning to. but with the way he brightens even more at the praise, purring in contentment, you don’t regret it.

he doesn’t do much the entire day, just follows you as you go through your list of chores. he’s always careful not to get in your way.

by evening, you can feel the pent-up energy and tension inside him, but he’s so good at pretending it isn’t there that you’re sure you wouldn’t have noticed if not for having seen him when he was truly relaxed. you feel guilty, cooping him up inside when there’s clearly some part of him that’s feral, making him act more like an animal than human like you.

you don’t live the most exciting life, it’s not fast-paced and entertaining and it definitely doesn’t keep you on your toes guessing what might happen next. you prefer the quiet, the comfort of a familiar routine, doing domestic chores and reading by the fireplace. it’s monotonous, but it’s something you can rely on, something that won’t change on you.

logan longs for something your life can’t provide.

he’s gazing out the open windows, at the forest from which you’d first seen him emerge, something in his eyes that you can’t decipher. and you realise that maybe you can give him what he needs. you live out in the middle of nowhere, animals roaming free in those woods, far from other people. in between two worlds, just like logan.

“you know you don’t have to follow me all the time,” you say gently, meeting him by the window, “nothing will happen if you go outside for a while. you can go, run free, and i’ll be here when you come back.”

he contemplates for a while and you wait, patient, hoping you come across as reassuring, that he knows you’re being genuine. it’s funny to think that when you first saw him you’d wanted him to leave.

he does go, eventually, after going through the entire house and sniffing around like he was searching for some kind of threat. so you sit on your couch with a book and a cup of tea, reading about silly little characters falling in love.

when logan comes back he’s shirtless, smelling of sweat and musk, chest heaving. he looks the best you’ve ever seen him, and not just because the sweat is making his skin glisten and you can see his perfect abs. something about him has changed, though it's not something physical. he didn’t have to hold back, was able to release all the tension you know must have been clinging to him since yesterday, or even longer. (you still don’t know his backstory.)

he curls up on the other side of the couch to you, and you spend the rest of the night with a hand in his hair, scratching his head occasionally to listen to his pleased purrs.

a week goes by and you fall into somewhat of a routine. logan clings to you less, though he still prefers to be in the same room as you most of the time. he goes out into the forest to run and sometimes to hunt, coming back with blood staining his clothes.

although the first few tries failed miserably, you’ve gotten quite good at removing bloodstains from fabric, which is not a skill you ever imagined yourself perfecting.

it’s been a while since your last visit to town, and you need to go pick up a few things, not just for yourself but for logan too.

“logan,” you call for him as you’re grabbing a few last things to throw in your bag. he bounds up to you as usual. sometimes he reminds you so much of a cute puppy that you get the urge to pet him and call him “good boy” but you don’t know how he would take that, so you refrain.

“i need to leave for a bit,” you say, “just like how you leave sometimes. i’ll be back soon, just need to get a few things.”

he grumbles and pouts as you leave but doesn’t stop you. he does stare longingly at you from through the window, you catch the sight as you’re driving out.

the closest town to your house is small, but it has all the necessities. you pick up some groceries, things you can’t make or grow yourself. and then you need to get clothes for logan. you had eyed his measurements, taking note of the size of his body, though you didn’t know them exactly. it’s still better than him continuing to wear clothes that don’t fit him.

although most days he prefers not to wear a shirt. because he wants to torture you, clearly.

it’s a good kind of torture, the kind that produces butterflies in your stomach and brings heat to your face. you try not to ogle him, not wanting to objectify him or make him uncomfortable, but when he catches you staring he only ever comes closer, pressing up against you.

you could have brought him with you, but you weren’t sure it was a good idea. he’s a mutant, you guessed that pretty quickly on the first night, and people aren’t very kind to mutants. especially small-minded, small-town folks. and though logan’s appearance isn’t damning on its own, his behaviours clearly show the animal side of him.

he doesn’t need to deal with awful people and their awful comments. you want to protect him from that as much as you can.

you normally take your time meandering around the town, stopping at your favourite bookstore to pick up some new reads, grabbing a horribly overpriced coffee as a treat, maybe even sitting on a bench in the park, enjoying your drink and novel as you watch children run around and play, parents shouting after them, dogs barking in excitement.

but today, you itch to return home. there’s a tight feeling in your chest, a loneliness you haven’t felt in a long time, and it calls out logan’s name, pleading for you to return to him. you still stop by the bookstore, and if you’re more attracted towards the romance novels with a supernatural, animalistic love interest this time around, that’s for you and the cashier who rings you up to know.

you’re beaming when you return home, parking the car and grabbing your bags to bring them inside. your smile falters when logan doesn’t greet you at the door. you peak into the living room to find it empty as well.

it saddens you, but you assume he went out into the forest for a while. it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to stay cooped up in the house with nothing to entertain him while you were gone. you had formed a scenario in your mind where logan would rush towards you when you returned, like a puppy who missed his owner.

when you finish putting away your groceries, you head towards your bedroom. pushing the door open, you freeze, mouth parted and eyes going soft at the sight that greets you.

logan is curled up in your bed, fast asleep in the spot where you always sleep, face buried in your pillow. he’s under the blankets for once, and they curl around his shape to wrap him up in soft warmth.

you tip-toe towards the bed, careful not to wake him. you don’t know how long he’s been sleeping, and you wish you had a way to play back the scene of him crawling into your bed, untucking the sheets to slip under them, sniffing the bed to find the spot where he knew you slept, the place that smelled the most like you.

oh, you adore him.

it’s fast, terribly so, but he’s wormed his way into your heart. it’s not love yet, but you think you could grow to love him someday.

you sit on the bed, moving over until you’re by logan’s side. he looks so peaceful like this, and you bring your hand to his head, intending to give him the scratches he loves so much, when he wakes suddenly.

the next thing you know, you’re on your back, logan on top of you, claws at your neck. you blink up at him, everything happening so quickly that your brain hasn’t had time to catch up and tell you to scream or struggle or anything else one would typically do when you have sharp blades pointed at your throat.

it doesn’t matter, because logan’s eyes meet yours, and his claws retract into his knuckles. you relax into the mattress, leftover fear dissipating because you know he won’t hurt you. he was surprised, that’s all, and really you should know better than to sneak up on someone with clear, obvious trauma.

his lips twitch up for barely a second, not quite reaching a smile, and then his expression darkens as he leans forward to sniff you. he growls, a deep rumble in his throat, shoving his face into your neck.

you can feel the vibrations through your body from the proximity between you and logan. it’s different from when he purrs in your ear and you feel as though the sound penetrates your skin, finding its way into your bloodstream, forcing your heartbeat faster.

something’s wrong, you can tell. you’ve never seen him react to you this way. so you bring your arms up to wrap around his midsection, hands on his back, slow movements not to startle him.

“what’s wrong?” you ask in a gentle whisper, “did something happen while i was away.”

there’s another growl as he sniffs you again. he pushes his body closer to yours, chest to chest, one of his legs between yours.

“mine,” logan says, followed by him pressing his face in your neck and licking and sucking at the skin. you gasp and squirm under him, but you don’t want him to stop, not really.

your mind is reeling. he spoke. a real word, one you recognise, passing through his lips, floating in the air between you. his voice is smooth, nothing like you expected, and yet it suits him.

you laugh. you can’t help it, you’re giddy. he pulls back when you laugh, still frowning, but you don’t care. the word is repeating in your head. “mine”, he’d called you, staking his claim both verbally as well as physically marking you as his. it’s terrible, you’ve known him only a week, yet you feel all warm and fuzzy, the room around you like a mirage. the only things that exist are you and logan and that word.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff

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