#xmen wolverine

[malavera]

I present you, the face of a MAN.

[tteotlma]

Trust in the Tension

--buried impulses flare into a fierce, unspoken surrender that no barrier can contain

"Nurse"!Logan x Patient!Reader (11.5kwc)

tw; 18+ MDNI; nsfw, power imbalance; caretaker/patient dynamic; dubcon (dubious consent); explicit sexual content; oral sex; choking; hair-pulling; biting; rough physicality; coarse language; mention of mental health struggles; tears/overwhelm.

a/n: PLS BE AWARE THIS IS A PIECE OF FICTION. (I AM DEEPLY AnD GRAVELY AWARE OF THE SEVERITY OF THIS SITUATION IRL BUT again THIS IS FICTION JUST HAVE FUN or skip.) i also didn't intend for this to be so long... but its been a month since my last fic

not edited entirely; pls like & reblog

Your vision pulsed to the sound of your heartbeat as you took in the scene around you.

You hadn’t asked to be here. 

The facility was nice— too nice. Plush furniture, warm neutral tones, windows big enough to let in the light but so obviously locked for safety. Despite the place feeling more like a high-end retreat, than a mental health facility that didn’t stop the feel of the walls caving in. 

Still in an unknowing state of shock you sat stiffly in the common room, arms crossed, back rigid, posture so straight it was almost defiant. It wasn’t lost on you that you were the only one not participating in whatever exercise the group facilitator had planned. 

You clenched your jaw as you stared straight ahead at the painting of random splatters on the far wall, the rest of the people fading away in the background. The painting, an aggressive array of white, red, and black splatters meticulously painted to convey some sort of emotion provided you a great sense of comfort. You couldn’t put your finger on what that feeling was but you could feel it— deep in the pit of your stomach. You felt the facilitator's eyes on you, but you ignored it trying to wrap your head around how you got here in the first place. 

It wasn’t voluntary, that's for sure. No, you were here because your parents begged, pleaded, and finally pulled out the we’re worried about you, sweetheart card. They’d finally worn you down, leaving you too exhausted to fight. 

Not that exhaustion was new to you. 

Professional Burnout was the sanitized phrase they’d slapped onto your file. As if snapping at a coworker who spent months undermining you somehow made you unstable. As if the outburst wasn’t deserved. 

One crack, you thought bitterly, and suddenly I’m the problem. 

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted your brooding. You glanced up just in time to see a man step into the room, a clipboard in hand and a toothpick hanging lazily from his mouth. He was tall and rugged, with broad shoulders that stretched his uniform and thick sideburns that framed his jaw. He looked like he belonged anywhere but here—on a construction site, maybe, or some smoky dive bar.

His eyes caught yours, sharp and assessing. You didn’t look away, narrowing your gaze in return.

He stood there for a moment, the toothpick rolling between his teeth, sizing you up like he’d already figured you out. You hated it.

“Logan,” he said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was deep and gravelly, with a rough edge that matched his rugged appearance. He tapped the clipboard against his thigh, tilting his head slightly. “You got a name, or are we just gonna keep starin’ at each other?”

“Why do you care?” you shot back, folding your arms tighter across your chest.

His lips quirked, just barely. “Keeps things polite. But hey, if you’d rather I call you ‘sunshine,’ that works too.”

You glared at him. “It’s [Y/N].” 

“[Y/N],” he repeated, his tone deliberate, like he was committing it to memory. “Alright then, [Y/N]. Here’s the deal. I’m the orderly assigned to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t go stir-crazy or claw anyone’s eyes out.”

You scoffed. “Charming.”

“Thanks,” he said, completely unfazed. “Let’s try something new—how about you actually join the group? Sitting there like a statue ain’t doin’ you any favors.”

“I’m fine right here,” you replied flatly, eyes drifting back to the splatter painting.

“Fine,” he echoed, his tone dripping with skepticism. “You keep tellin’ yourself that.”

He stepped closer, his boots heavy against the tiled floor. The closer he got, the more imposing he seemed, like he took up all the air in the room. “But here’s the thing, sweetheart. You can act all tough and keep everyone at arm’s length, but it doesn’t make the time go by any faster.”

You finally looked up at him, bristling at the way he loomed over you, like he was daring you to challenge him. “What’s your point?”

“My point,” he said, leaning in just enough to lower his voice, “is that I’ve seen plenty of people like you. Wound so tight you’re about to snap. Keep it up, and you’ll be stuck here a hell of a lot longer than you need to be.”

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms. “Maybe I like my space.”

His grin was infuriatingly small, almost imperceptible. “Sure you do. Let me know how that works out for you.”

And just like that, he turned and walked off, leaving you fuming. You weren’t sure if you wanted to yell at him or sink deeper into the chair just to spite him. Either way, you had the distinct feeling that Logan wasn’t going to make this easy for you.

—

Later that day you found yourself sitting in another goddamn plush leather seat. You sat stiffly in the chair, arms crossed and jaw tight as Logan settled into the seat across from you. He had the same clipboard as earlier, only now he looked far more official—still rugged and casual in demeanor, but with a sharpness in his gaze that said he wasn’t here to play around. 

“Alright (Y/N),” he started, clicking his pen. “This is just a standard intake. I know you did it before coming here, I just gotta get some background myself, so we know how to help you.” 

“Help me,” you muttered under your breath, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Logan raised a brow but didn’t take the bait. “First question: How are you feeling?”

You scoffed, leaning back in the chair. “Fantastic. Couldn’t be better.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied dryly, jotting something down on the clipboard. “We’ll circle back to that. What about your usual stress levels? On a scale of one to ten?”

“Zero.”

He glanced up, his expression unreadable. “And what do you usually do to blow off steam?”

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Work. Run. Avoid people.”

Logan hummed thoughtfully, tapping his pen against the clipboard. “Not exactly workin’ out for you, is it?”

Your glare could’ve cut glass. “What’s your point?”

“No point,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smirk. “Just gettin’ to know you.”

He finished scribbling and set the clipboard aside, leaning forward slightly. “Last question. You think you belong here?”

You faltered, his sudden intensity throwing you off balance. “What does it matter what I think? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But if you’re gonna be here, might as well make it worth somethin’. Otherwise, you’re just wastin’ your own damn time.”

The weight of his words hung in the air as he stood, gathering his clipboard and pen. “That’s it for now. I’ll see you around, sunshine.”

As he walked out, you couldn’t help but feel like Logan saw more of you in that brief exchange than most people ever did—and it unnerved you.

—

You felt the weight of Logan’s questions long after the session ended. Sure they were simple questions but it’s not like it wasn’t anything he couldn’t look up himself if he tried. The way his eyes had fixed on you, intense and unyielding, had unsettled you more than you cared to admit. You tried to shake it off, but it lingered like a bad taste, gnawing at the back of your mind. 

When you walked back to the common room, the group session was finally finishing up. Everyone slowly filtered out, but you stayed behind. You didn’t want to be around people—didn’t want anyone to see how much you were clenching your fists or how your jaw was tight enough to bruise. 

Sitting back down in your (un)claimed seat, you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back to stare at the painting on the far wall. Your mind kept drifting back to Logan’s words, his calm, almost knowing demeanor. You hated how easily he had gotten under your skin. 

It wasn’t just the questions. It was the way he looked at you, like he understood everything without you saying a word. You didn’t want to think about that, either.

You stood abruptly, deciding a walk through the facility might clear your head. But when you stepped into the hallway, you saw Logan leaning against the doorframe to the lounge, a smirk barely hidden behind his usual indifference.

“Lost?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

You didn’t answer, trying to walk past him. You didn’t need another interaction, especially with him. But he moved just enough to block your path.

“You think you’re just gonna keep brushing me off, huh?” he said, voice low and amused.

“You really love to push buttons, don’t you?” You didn’t bother hiding the irritation in your voice.

His grin widened, but he didn’t press you further. Instead, his gaze softened, almost unreadable. “I don’t push buttons. I just call it like I see it.”

You glared at him, biting back a retort. But when he finally stepped aside, giving you space to walk past him, you couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of relief and frustration. 

—

The next time you saw Logan, it was in another session. Group therapy again. You’d kept your distance as much as possible, staying silent while the others participated. You weren’t interested in talking about your feelings—not to strangers and definitely not to Logan.

As the facilitator guided the group through an exercise, you sat stiffly, arms seemingly permanent crossed. You tried to block out everything and everyone, focusing on the wall in front of you. 

You were here, just like your parents had wanted. That should be enough. 

Logan had been observing you quietly, and when the session ended, he was the first one to walk over.

“You gonna keep that scowl on your face all day, or are you gonna get over yourself?” His voice was sharp, but there was an edge of concern underneath, like he was watching you closely.

You didn’t want to feel anything anymore, didn’t want to stay caught up in the mess of emotions or the frustration building inside you. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you, and you could see it in his eyes. “You sure about that?”

Before you could snap back, the door to the group room swung open, and the others filed out. Logan stepped closer, his presence so commanding that you felt the air grow heavier around you.

“Why don’t we step outside for a second?” he suggested, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to coax you into something you didn’t want.

You glared up at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

But something in his eyes—some unspoken understanding—made you pause. Against your better judgment, you followed him out into the hallway.

Once the two of you were out of earshot from the others, Logan stopped and turned to face you. The air between you was thick, charged with something you couldn’t name.

“You’re acting like a kid,” he said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah? Well, maybe I’m just tired of pretending I’m fine when I’m not,” you shot back, your voice sharp and biting. The frustration you’d been holding in for days boiled to the surface, your words barely contained.

Logan’s gaze softened, but there was no judgment in his eyes. He was too used to dealing with people like you. “Yeah, I figured. You’ve got a lot of tension in you, huh?” His eyes trailed the length of your body. 

You didn’t respond, the anger started to bubble up again, your hands clenched at your side but something about his steady presence seemed to disarm you. Maybe it was the way he didn’t back off, didn’t try to force anything.

He only took a step closer, and for the first time, you didn’t flinch. His hand moved to your shoulder, the touch firm but gentle.

“I’m not here to push you, [Y/N],” he said, his voice low. “But you gotta know—holding all that in? It’s gonna eat you up.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to control the wave of frustration that threatened to overwhelm you. “I don’t need advice,” you muttered, feeling vulnerable in a way you hated.

“I don’t need advice,” you repeated, except the words coming out sharp, and defensive this time. You hated the way your chest felt tight, the vulnerability creeping in from where Logan’s hand rested on your shoulder. 

The warmth from his touch spread across your skin, and for a moment, it felt like it was sinking into your bones, grounding you in a way that made your stomach twist. You didn’t need anyone grounding you. You didn’t need him to make you feel this way.

Logan’s eyes softened just a fraction, but his expression remained steady, like he was waiting for you to crack. “You sure about that?” he asked again quietly, his tone almost too calm.

You felt it then, the tension pooling inside you, the anger at yourself for even considering his words. You were independent. You didn’t need anyone to fix you. You hadn’t needed anyone before to figure things out. And you especially, didn’t need some wannabe shrink to start telling you how to manage your life.

Without thinking, you grabbed his hand and removed it from your shoulder. You did it quickly, as if his touch burned you, trying to ignore the way his heat lingered on your skin. You told yourself it was about reclaiming your space, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the way you resented the way his warmth had made you feel—like you weren’t enough on your own, like you needed him, and it made you bitter.

You didn’t meet his eyes as you moved away. The weight of his gaze felt like too much, like he could see right through you. “I’m fine,” you muttered for what seemed like the umpteenth time, turning away before he could say anything more, before you could let him see how much you were feeling.

Each step you took away from him was deliberate, quick. You weren’t going to let him break you down, weren’t going to let him see how much you wanted the relief he might even be able to offer. You didn’t need him. You’d never needed anyone, not like that.

The hallway stretched out in front of you, a quiet reminder that you could handle this—you could handle this.

—

The next few days passed in a haze. Every session, every group exercise felt like you were just going through the motions, barely containing the storm brewing inside you. You could still feel Logan’s hand on your shoulder, the way it had made you feel both furious and small, and it gnawed at you. You told yourself you were fine, but the anger lingered, thick like smoke in your lungs.

You were sitting in the group room again, the usual chatter around you fading into white noise. Your focus was elsewhere—just trying to survive the hour without having to say a word. You were about to tune out completely when you heard it.

“She’s just another fucking drama queen.”

The voice came from across the room, a low murmur between two of the other patients. You didn’t need to hear more. You already knew they were talking about you. The words were sharp, cutting through the air with a venom that dug deep into you.

You snapped your gaze in their direction, fury immediately surging through you. The mocking tone, the casual dismissal—it was too familiar, too reminiscent of the shit you’d put up with at your last job. You could feel the rage flooding your chest, hot and suffocating. It was a sensation you knew too well, one that had always pushed you to the edge before.

And now, it was back.

The room started to shrink around you. The noise of their laughter, the snickers, the sideways glances—all of it evaporated as your anger took over. Your fists clenched so tightly your nails dug into your palms.

You didn’t care anymore. You needed to make it stop. You needed to hit something. You tried grounding yourself, but it was too late. Your body had already taken over. Your legs were pushing you forward, jumping over your seat in a split-second decision. You saw red, your entire body screaming for release, for someone to just stop dismissing you. But before you could close the distance, a firm hand shot out, grabbing you mid-air.

“Hey!” Logan’s voice cut through the chaos in your mind—or in the room, it was hard to tell—his voice sharp and commanding.

You felt his strong arms wrap around your waist—hard, like steel, pulling you back. You let out a shout of frustration, trying to twist free, but Logan’s grip didn’t falter. It was like he was two steps ahead, as if he had already anticipated your move, as if he knew exactly what was about to happen. His voice was in your ear now, low and unwavering.

“[Y/N], enough,” he said, his tone hard but not cruel. “This isn’t the way.”

Before you could even process what was happening, Logan yanked you backwards with a force that left you no room to fight it. In an instant, he’d pulled you out of the room, dragging you down the hallway with such speed that no one could have comprehended what just happened. There was a stunned silence behind you as you were pulled out of the room, your feet barely touching the ground as Logan kept a firm hold, his steps echoing through the hallway.

“Let me go!” You tried to struggle, to twist your way free, but his grip tightened, holding you firmly as he pushed you further from the group.

“No,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Not until you calm down.”

You were breathing hard, the adrenaline coursing through you. Your pulse was a drum in your ears, and you could feel the heat of your anger radiating off you in waves.

“I don’t need you to babysit me,” you spat, still trying to break free. “I don’t need your fucking help!”

You tried to tear his arm away, but Logan’s grip tightened, his body pressing into yours as he moved with precision, dragging you down the hallway without a word. The moment you realized what was happening, the reality of it hit you like a punch to the gut. Your anger, your rage—it all crashed down as you found yourself being physically restrained, the helplessness burning in your chest.

He didn’t say a word as he pulled you down another hall, his face impassive, but you could feel the tension in his body as if he was just as ready to snap as you had been moments ago. But he wasn’t letting you. He wasn’t letting you lose control.

“Let me go!” you snarled, struggling against his grip, but again, Logan didn’t even flinch. He kept moving, keeping you contained, his presence too overwhelming for you to break free from.

When he finally stopped, it was in a hallway, somewhere far enough from anybody that no one would hear you—no one would witness how you’d almost cracked. He barely released his hold on you, but not before pushing you back against the wall, his body still towering over you, blocking your every escape route.

“Take a breath,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was speaking to someone who might break apart at any second.

His grip on your arm softened, but only just enough for you to feel the tension in his hand. He wasn’t letting go, but he was giving you space to breathe, to calm down if you could.

“You’re better than this. So stop acting like a fucking fool, [Y/N].” He said, his voice lower now, almost like a warning.

Your chest was still heaving, your body still tense with frustration, but hearing him say that—hearing him treat you like more than just a hothead, like you were capable of something better—suddenly made it all feel worse. The tears you’d been holding back started to burn at the back of your eyes, and you hated yourself for it. Hated that you felt so weak, so fucking out of control.

But Logan wasn’t looking at you like you were broken. He wasn’t judging you, even though you knew you deserved it. He was just… there. Silent. Waiting.

You wrenched yourself out of his grip (despite both your dismay) and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain some composure.

“Just… don’t touch me,” you muttered, your voice raw and unsteady.

Logan said nothing. He didn’t have to. The silence between you was thick with something unspoken, something neither of you could easily put into words.

But it didn’t matter. You couldn’t let it matter. Not now.

You turned and walked away, not looking back. 

You barely took a few steps before the frustration began to bubble up again. You had only just started to walk away from Logan, but the moment you stepped around the corner and out of sight, it felt like the world was pressing in on you again.

The laughter from the group still rang in your ears. “Drama queen.” The words clawed at your skin, digging into you like a constant reminder of everything you hated—being dismissed, being belittled.

You were done. You couldn’t keep holding it in. Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms as you spun on your heel, slamming your hand against the wall. The sharp sound of your palm against the cold surface echoed in the hallway, but it wasn’t enough. The rage, the helplessness—it was all too much.

“Fuck!” you hissed, breath coming in sharp bursts as you stared at the spot where your hand had just struck the wall, feeling the dull sting radiating through your knuckles. 

You couldn’t keep it together anymore. It was too much. You were tired of being on the edge, of trying so damn hard to be perfect at everything—at work, at life, at keeping it all together. Everyone depended on you to do everything. Always being there, and put together.

But right now? You didn’t want to be. You didn’t want to hold it in anymore. Your body was shaking with the weight of it all—the frustration of being forced to be something that was overwhelming, the anger at yourself for letting it all pile up until you exploded.

You wanted to break. You wanted to let go—but you knew you couldn’t. You couldn’t afford to. You’d kept it locked away for so long, keeping everything in check, trying to make sure no one saw the truth behind the mask. Who knew what would happen if you let yourself slip away, even just a smidge. You were already forced to be somewhere you didn’t want to be, you couldn’t risk losing anything else. But the anger… the helplessness… It was too much. You were suffocating, and you couldn’t breathe anymore.

And that’s when it hit you: This is why you were here.

You couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t keep pretending that you had it all together. You were falling apart at the seams, and the pressure—the pressure of trying to control everything—was finally breaking you.

You spun around, not knowing what you were doing, just feeling the surge of emotions all crashing in. You needed to hit something again, harder. You needed to feel something, anything, that would make it stop. But before you could even move an inch, a voice cut through the chaotic storm inside your mind.

“[Y/N]?”

It was Logan.

You didn’t even turn to look at him. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Hell, you didn’t even want to see yourself like this.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you snarled, voice hoarse as the tears welled up, but you fought them back. Not yet. Not here. Not now.

But Logan was already there. In an instant, his hands were on you, trying to turn you, pulling you against him, his arms firm and unyielding. You tried to twist, to pull away, but his grip was too strong. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to break—because you did.

But you couldn’t let him see it. You couldn’t let anyone see how much you were falling apart. You were so fucking tired of pretending to be fine, you were ready to break but not in front of him.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Logan tried to pacify your struggles, as his hold on you failed to waver. It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t about controlling you. His presence was heavy—comforting in a way you hadn’t let yourself experience in so long.

The tears came the more you struggled in his grip, despite all your efforts. Hot and fast, they burned your face, dripping onto the linoleum floor, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. You wanted to stop them. You hated it. You hated feeling this weak.

But Logan just held you as your body went slack. His grip tightened, pulling you into him. Not to silence you, not to force you to do anything, but to hold you steady, to keep you from falling completely apart.

“I told you not to touch me,” you choked out through the tears, voice breaking as you finally let yourself give into him, your body shuddering against his. You were shaking—not just with the anger anymore, but with the helplessness that had been buried so deep.

You tried once more to push him away, weakly, but it was like fighting against a wall. His chest was too solid. His presence was too overwhelming. You didn’t want to feel it. You didn’t want him to see the cracks.

But there was no escaping it now. The reality of everything you’d been holding inside came rushing at you, and it hurt. It hurt more than you could even process.

Logan didn’t speak. He didn’t try to fix anything. He just let you break in silence. His arms around you were steady, not demanding. They didn’t try to pull you back from the edge. They simply were. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe as you were.

When he finally loosened his grip and you finally pulled yourself away from him, still sniffling, you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You couldn’t look at him like this.

“Please, don’t touch me anymore,” you muttered, voice shaky, and with that, you turned away, your feet dragging as you walked down the hall. You didn’t look back. Not once.

But you knew, in that moment, something had shifted between you. Something in you had cracked.

And Logan knew it too. He didn’t stop you this time. He didn’t chase you. He just let you go.

The silence in the hallway hung heavy in the air after you walked away. Logan stood there for a long moment, the weight of the last few minutes settling over him. He hadn’t expected the tears, the rawness that tore through you, but the way you’d fought it all—fought him—made something click in his mind.

He didn’t follow you. He didn’t try to force anything. Instead, he gave you space. Because deep down, he understood.

He didn’t move from where he stood immediately. He wanted to give you time. You needed it. Needed to process it all.

When he finally did move, it was slow. The hallway was too quiet now, too empty. His hand rested on the wall, his mind replaying the moments that had just passed, trying to piece everything together. What did you need? He hadn’t known before, but now? Now, something was different.

—

It had been a few days since you’d broken down in the hallway. Logan hadn’t pushed you since, letting you process things on your own, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. About you. About the way you’d finally let your guard down, even if just for a moment, before retreating again. He’d stayed close but careful, offering support in quiet ways, waiting for you to let him in.

You walked into your room, your steps slow, your mind racing. As you sat on the edge of your bed, you couldn’t stop the image of Logan holding you from replaying over and over in your head. The warmth of his embrace still lingered on your skin, even though you had pushed him away.

A soft knock at your door interrupted your thoughts.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You knew who it was but, if you looked at him again, you weren’t sure you could hold it together. You needed space. You needed time.

Another knock. A little louder this time.

You dragged a shaky breath into your lungs, wiping your face with the back of your hand. You hated this—hated the fragility of it all. But the pressure inside you hadn’t subsided. You could feel the ache in your chest, the pull to break again.

“[Y/N]?” Logan’s voice came through the door, low, steady. “Can I come in?”

You stayed quiet. You wanted to tell him to leave you alone. You wanted to shut him out. But you couldn’t. You knew deep down you didn’t want him to go away. Not now. Not after everything.

The door creaked open slowly, and Logan stepped inside, his eyes cautious. He didn’t push, didn’t say anything. His presence was still heavy, but it wasn’t demanding. The door shut behind him with a soft thud, followed by a small discernible click. 

He didn’t ask if you were okay. He didn’t offer any words of comfort. He just watched you, letting the silence hang between you. You felt the familiar heat rising in your chest, the uncomfortable feeling of being seen too clearly, but this time, it wasn’t like before. He wasn’t trying to fix you.

You could feel the distance between you. He was there, but he wasn’t pushing.

He shifted, taking a step closer, but not too close. It was a subtle offer, a quiet invitation.

The silence stretched between you like a taut string, every breath you took loud in the otherwise still room. Logan didn’t rush you. He just stood there, his hands loose at his sides, his presence calm, steady, like an anchor in the storm of your thoughts.

“I thought I told you to leave,” you said, your voice wavering despite the steel you tried to inject into it.

His lips twitched, a barely-there smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You didn’t say a word, sunshine. Just figured you might need someone who’ll stick around—Help take care of you.”

You hated how much his words hit the mark, hated how the rawness inside you stirred at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

Logan took another step closer, his boots soft against the floor. The click of the lock earlier seemed louder now, echoing in your mind.

“You’re my nurse,” you whispered, like a warning, but your words lacked conviction.

“I am,” he agreed, his voice low but even. “And that means takin’ care of you, even if you fight me on it. Especially if you fight me on it.” The tone in his voice emphasizing the last part—as if the fight you put up brings a rush to his blood. 

You scoffed, your instinct to push him away rearing its head. “This feels like more than taking care of a patient.”

His gaze softened, but it didn’t waver. “Maybe. But does it matter? You’re not by yourself anymore—not in here. You don’t have to keep pretending you’re fine when you’re not. Let me help you.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. He saw too much, and yet, you didn’t feel the urge to run. You felt… understood. The wall you’d built around yourself since arriving finally cracked, just enough for his steady gaze to slip through.

“You don’t get it,” you muttered, shaking your head, your hands clenching the edge of the bed. “I’ve always had to hold it together. Always. If I let go—” Your voice broke, a sharp crack in the stillness.

“You won’t fall apart,” Logan interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. He crouched down in front of you, his hands resting on his knees, his body just close enough to block out everything else. “You’ve been doin’ this on your own for too long. Let someone else shoulder some of it.”

His hand lifted slowly, giving you time to pull away, but you didn’t. His fingers brushed against yours where they gripped the edge of the mattress, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“Logan…” Your voice trembled, a mix of warning and plea.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “Just let me help.”

You closed your eyes, trying to pull yourself together, but the heat radiating from him was impossible to ignore. The way his thumb traced over your knuckles was gentle, but there was an unspoken promise in his touch.

He shifted closer, his legs brushing against yours now. The tension in the air thickened, your pulse quickening as his steady gaze roamed your face. There was something in his expression—something deeper than concern. His job might have brought him here, but the way he looked at you was anything but professional.

“Logan,” you said again, this time softer, your voice barely a whisper.

He leaned in slightly, the rough edge of his voice brushing against your skin. “Let me in, sunshine. Just this once.”

Your walls wavered, the vulnerability threatening to spill over. The ache in your chest was unbearable, the pull to let go stronger than your fear. He wasn’t just offering to help; he was offering himself.

Your breathing grew shallow as his hand slid up, his fingers curling lightly around your wrist, pulling your hand away from the bed and into his. You opened your eyes as you let him guide you, avoiding all chances to truly look him in the eyes, his movements slow, and deliberate, until your hand rested against his chest.

He shifted and his other hand found your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a slow, grounding motion. “Let me take care of you. All you’ve gotta do is trust me, sunshine.”

Your lips parted, words caught in your throat as his thumb slid lower, grazing your bottom lip. You froze, your mind racing, but Logan didn’t push further—he just waited, his touch firm but patient.

The shift was subtle, but it was there—the change in the air between you. He wasn’t just offering comfort anymore. He was asking for surrender, for trust in the most intimate way.

And God help you, you were ready to give it to him anything he asked for. 

The tension between you crackled, thick and electric, but his touch remained steady, grounding. Logan’s thumb brushed the curve of your cheek, slow and deliberate, before tracing the edge of your jaw. His movements weren’t hurried—there was no rush, no demand—just an unspoken invitation.

“See?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, like he was coaxing you down from a ledge. “Ain’t so hard to let someone else take the reins for a bit, is it?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers trailed down, brushing the side of your neck. The warmth of his palm lingered, the weight of his hand firm enough to quiet the chaotic swirl in your mind, but not enough to drown out the muffled sounds of people passing by your door.

“I… I don’t know how,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Logan huffed a soft laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Yeah, you do. You’re already doing it.”

His fingers shifted, sliding to the back of your neck, and you leaned into the touch before you could stop yourself. He drew you closer, just enough to feel his presence envelop you entirely. Your knees brushed against his thighs where he stood in front of you, and the heat radiating off him was impossible to ignore.

“Relax that jaw of yours,” he said, his tone still light but with a teasing edge. After caressing the nape of your neck his hand comes back to your jaw and squeezes until your lips part.  “You’ve been clenching it so tight, it’s a wonder it hasn’t locked up yet.”

You blinked at him, caught between embarrassment and curiosity. His eyes, dark and steady, met yours, and for a moment, you swore he could see straight through you.

“C’mere,” he murmured, tugging gently on your wrist until you slid closer towards him.

The shift brought your bodies even nearer, his hands bracketing your thighs now, his thumbs brushing circles over the fabric of your pants. His touch was careful but deliberate, testing your boundaries while coaxing you further out of your shell.

“Let me take the lead,” he said softly, his voice dipping lower, more intimate.

You swallowed hard, feeling the ache in your chest ease as something entirely new unfurled in its place. Trust. Need. A quiet kind of surrender you didn’t know you were capable of.

“How?” you finally gave in and asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small smirk, but his gaze stayed steady, unwavering. “Like I said… starting with that jaw.”

His hand moved, knuckles grazing your chin as his thumb pressed gently against the corner of your mouth. The motion was slow, teasing, giving you plenty of time to pull back. You didn’t.

“Open up for me,” he murmured, his words a low rumble that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

The command was quiet, laced with care, but the underlying edge of authority had your pulse spiking. Your lips parted instinctively, your breath shaky as his thumb slid along the inside of your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise slipping out like it belonged there.

The words hit you harder than you wanted to admit, warmth pooling in your chest—and lower.

Logan shifted closer, his other hand steadying your jaw as he studied you, his expression unreadable but intent. “We’ll take it slow,” he said, his thumb retreating as he brought his hand to the hem of his pants. “Just let me guide you.”

Your breathing hitched as your eyes flicked down to his hands, the way his fingers deftly worked the knot of his drawstring pants. The quiet rustle of the fabric filled the space between you, a sound that felt louder than it was.

Logan’s movements were deliberate, unhurried, as though he was waiting for any sign of hesitation from you. When your gaze lifted to meet his, you saw no rush, no impatience—just the same steady calm that made it impossible not to trust him.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he murmured, his voice grounding you even as it sent your pulse racing.

You swallowed hard, your jaw relaxing further at his words, at the way his presence seemed to envelop you completely. His hand returned to your chin, tilting your head up slightly, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“Atta girl,” Logan praised softly, his lips curving into a faint smile, as his thumb caressed your skin. “That’s it. Just breathe for me.”

The tension that had coiled so tightly in your chest loosened a fraction as you exhaled shakily. His fingers traced along your jawline, the touch soothing and deliberate, coaxing you to focus on him and nothing else.

When his drawstrings tangled free, Logan leaned in closer, his free hand bracing against the edge of the bed beside you. His proximity was overwhelming in the best way, his warmth and scent filling your senses.

“This ain’t just about me, sunshine,” he said, his voice low and sure. He takes one hand, and brings it to your neck. His thumb finds the pulse point beneath your jaw and he brings you in closer. “This is about you learning to let go. To stop holdin’ on so tight it hurts.”

You nodded faintly, swallowing against his palm, your body responding before your mind could catch up. There was no space for second-guessing, no time for overthinking—not with the way Logan looked at you, like he already knew exactly what you needed.

“Good,” he murmured again, his tone like gravel smoothed by honey. “We’ll go slow, but I need you to trust me.” He nuzzled the side of your head, his breath tickling your skin as he slowly let go of your throat. 

Logan’s hands moved, sliding down to catch yours. His touch was firm but not forceful, the rough calluses on his palm grounding you as he pulled your hands away from your lap. He brought them up, pressing them flat against his chest.

“Feel that?” he asked, his voice low and steady as your fingers splayed over his warm skin through his shirt. His familiar heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath your touch, grounding you, centering you. “That’s all you gotta focus on. Just me. Nothing else matters right now.”

You nodded faintly, the tension in your shoulders coming to a still as he kept your hands there for a moment, letting you adjust.  Suddenly, a loud slam down the hallway caused you to jump and turn towards the door. He quickly grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. “What did I just say?” He quirked, all you could do was look at him, heat blooming from your neck up. 

Then, slowly once he made sure you weren’t looking away, he began guiding your hands downward.

The motion was deliberate, unhurried, as though every inch was a silent reassurance that you could stop at any time. His hands covered yours, his thumbs brushing the backs of your knuckles as he slid your palms down the planes of his torso, over the firm muscle beneath his shirt, until they rested against his hips.

Logan gave you a beat to take it in, his gaze locked on yours. His breathing was measured, but you could see the faintest flicker of tension in his jaw, the restraint he was holding onto so tightly.

“Still good?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, rougher now.

“Yes,” you murmured, barely trusting your voice as heat pooled low in your belly. You unconsciously squirmed, in anticipation, in heat who knew.  

Logan nodded, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile but carried the same weight of approval. He waited, giving you one last chance to back out before guiding your thumbs to join his, beneath the elastic of his scrub pants.

“Easy,” he murmured, the word a quiet reminder as he guided your hands to push the fabric down slowly, exposing more of his skin. The sliver of skin burned against your fingers as you ghosted them along his body. His abdomen tensed under your touch, his breathing shifting slightly as he exhaled through his nose.

Logan let the pants hang low on his hips, one hand trailing up to cup your jaw again, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “We’ll go nice and slow,” he said, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth again. “No rush, sunshine. Just follow my lead.”

With that, he took your hands again, guiding them lower until they brushed the waistband of his boxers. His movements were steady, deliberate, as though showing you exactly where he wanted you without rushing you.

“You feelin’ brave?” he teased softly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, though his eyes held nothing but warmth and patience.

You nodded again scooching closer to the edge of the bed, and the brink of insanity, your chest tightening with anticipation. His smirk deepened, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Then show me, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me see what you can do.”

Logan eased back slightly, just enough to give you room to move, but his hand lingered on yours, a steadying presence as he guided your touch. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his waistband, and with a deep breath, you pushed the material down further, revealing more of him inch by inch.

The air between you grew heavier, the tension palpable as his arousal became impossible to ignore. Logan’s hand left yours, but only for a moment, trailing up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face before cupping the back of your neck.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart.” he murmured, his voice warm and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb traced lazy circles at the base of your skull, grounding you as his other hand rested atop your forearm, giving you control but silently encouraging you to keep going.

You shifted slightly, your hands trembling as they moved to rest on his hips again. Logan watched you closely, his gaze steady but dark with something you couldn’t quite name. His chest rose and fell in a slow, measured rhythm, as though he were holding himself back, letting you set the pace.

When your hands brushed the bare skin of his hips, Logan inhaled a shaky breath, a faint sound escaping him that made your pulse spike. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your temple as he murmured, “Don’t overthink it. Just take what you can, sunshine. I’ll guide you through the rest.”

Your fingers curled into his skin as you leaned forward, your breath brushing against his lower abdomen. Logan’s hand slid from your neck to your shoulder, a subtle but firm anchor as he shifted slightly, giving you better access.

“Atta girl,” he praised, his voice barely above a whisper. The words sent a wave of warmth through you, and you felt your hesitation ease, replaced by a quiet resolve to follow his lead.

Logan’s hand moved again, this time to rest over yours as he guided one of them lower. He didn’t stop until you were cradling the solid weight of him. Your touch lightly teasing the ache that pulsed beneath your trembling hand. Logan guided your hand to palm the rigid heat beneath his clothes,  wrapping your fingers around him. A sharp inhale escaped his lips, and you felt the faintest tremor in his muscles as your touch sent a jolt through him. 

“Slow,” he reminded you, his voice tight but still soft. “Just like that.” 

The tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife, every shift of his body, every measured breath, drawing you further into the moment. Your fingers trembled as they traced the contours of his arousal, the fabric of his boxers doing little to disguise the heat and weight beneath. Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, not in impatience but as a subtle reassurance, his silent way of telling you that you were doing exactly what he wanted.

His hips shifted just barely, an almost involuntary reaction to the way your hand brushed against him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. His thumb traced another soothing circle at the base of your neck, the grounding motion a stark contrast to the fire building between you. “You’ve got me, sunshine. Just keep going.”

Emboldened by his words, you pressed a little firmer, your palm smoothing over the outline of him, taking your time to explore every inch. The way he exhaled sharply, the muscles in his abdomen tensing beneath your other hand, made you feel a surge of confidence. You dared to glance up at him, and what you saw made your breath catch. His head was tilted back slightly, his jaw tight, the faintest flush coloring his cheeks. His eyes, though darkened with desire, never left yours, his focus sharp and unwavering.

“You’re taking  your time, huh?” he teased, his smirk returning, though it was tinged with a rawness that made your chest tighten. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You swallowed hard, your hand faltering for just a moment before finding its rhythm again. His reaction—the way his body leaned into your touch, the low sound he made in the back of his throat—was intoxicating. It spurred you on, your fingers brushing the waistband of his boxers again before slipping just beneath, your fingertips meeting bare skin.

You felt him twitch ever so slightly, and your cheeks twinged with excitement. There was something happening inside of you that you weren’t quite sure what to think of it. You knew what Logan was doing would’ve been demeaning as hell anywhere else, but here, now… all you wanted to do was give in, succumb to whatever it was he wanted you to do. He asked you to trust him, and so far he hasn’t shown you a reason not to. 

Your heart thudded in your chest as the realization hit you: you wanted this. More than anything, you wanted to give yourself over to him, to see what it felt like to let someone else carry the weight for once. If his touch—barely there—was enough to leave you trembling, what else could he make you feel? What more could he show you?

The thought sent a rush of heat through you, your breath quickening as your fingers finally curled around the rigid, throbbing length of him, pressing more firmly against his strained need. Logan’s soft groan rumbled through the air, stirring something deep in your chest—a quiet, unfamiliar hunger that threatened to consume you. You let yourself sink into it, letting the weight of the moment guide your movements, every brush of your touch unraveling a part of you you didn’t know existed. 

“Good,” Logan murmured, his voice warm and gravelly, the rough edge of it sending a shiver down your spine. “Just like that, sunshine. You’re doin’ perfect.”

You inched closer to the edge of the bed, the pull to be nearer to him overwhelming, almost instinctual. Kneeling now, you practically sank toward the floor, chasing the heat radiating from his body like you couldn’t bear the space between you.

Logan shifted, and before you could fully close the distance, he was pulling back. The loss of contact jarred you, a quiet whine of protest nearly escaping before you caught yourself. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, firm but gentle, stopping you in your tracks.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and steady. In one smooth motion, he grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the ground between the two of you, the soft thud breaking the tension for only a split second.

Your gaze snapped up to meet his, eyes wide, blown out with something you couldn’t quite name—but it was there, raw and undeniable. The way he’d stopped you, how casually he’d thrown the pillow down, like he knew exactly what you needed before you did—your chest tightened, and your jaw slackened just slightly. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, yet you swore you could taste the heat rolling off him.

Logan’s eyes flickered down to your throat as you swallowed, the barest hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. He let out a low, rough chuckle—one that felt like gravel and smoke—and before you knew it, his hand was cradling the back of your neck, fingers splaying out against your nape and jaw in a way that had you forgetting how to breathe. The strength in his grip was tempered with something careful, deliberate, and when he tugged you forward, you melted into it willingly, chasing the pull like it was magnetic.

His lips found yours in an instant, the kiss deep and consuming, all heat and desperation that made your head spin. Logan kissed you like he was trying to unravel you, his mouth moving against yours in a way that left you pliant and eager, gasping against him. With every subtle pull of his hand, you followed, inching forward without thought, his control and your surrender melting together.

When you opened your eyes again, you were on your knees on the pillow, face to face with the aching strain beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. You blinked up at him, lips kiss-swollen, as the realization coursed through you, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Logan watched you closely, his thumb brushing slowly along your jaw where his hand still lingered, as though grounding you there—reminding you that this was him, guiding you, coaxing you forward.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice dark and edged with something thick and raw. His thumb dragged along your lower lip, smirking when he noticed you shiver. “Go on. Hold me again, sweetheart.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hands trembled slightly as they curled around him once more, this time with more confidence, more purpose. Logan’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, though his voice dropped to a whisper when he spoke again.

“Good. Now, let me feel those soft lips of yours.” He guided you closer, the weight of his palm on the back of your neck a constant, steadying anchor as you leaned forward. Your lips brushed along the shaft first—tentative, testing—as though learning every inch of him. Logan’s breath hitched, and when you pressed a lingering kiss to the tip, his reaction shattered any lingering doubt.

A deep groan spilled from his chest, half a breathless chuckle, half a helpless sound that made your stomach twist in the best way. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, the sound shaky as his muscles tensed.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he muttered, his hand tightening at your nape. You swore you felt him tremble for just a moment before his voice turned low and rough again. “Sorry, baby. Can’t help myself.”

Before you could process what he meant, his fingers slid into your hair, fisting just tight enough to make your scalp tingle, and with a gentle but deliberate motion, he pushed the tip past your parted lips. The first inch of him filled your mouth, the taste of him flooding your senses, and it was enough to make your mind blank entirely. 

He stilled, his hands firm yet tentative as they guided your gaze up to meet his. The look in his eyes sent a wave of heat coursing through you, pooling low in your belly and making your thighs clench involuntarily. A faint whimper escaped your throat, and you squirmed, trying in vain to adjust the soaked fabric pressing against your folds.

“Oh, pretty girl,” Logan murmured, his chest rising and falling heavily, his voice low and rough with restraint. “You’re makin’ this real hard for me.” He paused, his thumb brushing along your jaw, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You trust me to take good care of you, right?”

You nodded without hesitation, a small, ragged sound catching in your throat as heat prickled across your cheeks. You felt obscene—completely undone under his gaze—but the way Logan looked at you chased away every last shred of doubt.

“Good girl,” he breathed, his hands sliding up to cradle the sides of your neck, a gentle yet possessive hold that left your pulse fluttering wildly. Slowly, he guided you closer, his touch steady as he coaxed your mouth open.

“Relax for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, his thumb sweeping over your jaw, encouraging it to drop further. A strained exhale left his lips as he eased in deeper, until the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat. “Oh, yes—” Logan’s voice broke into a rough, shaky breath as he bottomed out, and your eyes fluttered shut as you adjusted to the weight of him.

“Come on, baby. I know you can take it,” he urged softly, his voice laced with both praise and challenge. Your hands rose instinctively to grip his thighs, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his pants as you let out a muffled moan around him.

The sound seemed to undo him further. Logan groaned low in his chest, his hand shifting to the back of your head to hold you there just a moment longer, as though savoring the feeling. You tried to quiet yourself, but the excitement coursing through you was impossible to contain—soft, needy noises escaped despite your efforts, vibrating against him as he held you still against his body.

Logan’s grip tightened at the nape of your neck, his restraint snapping like a taut wire. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice rough and gravelly, “fuck, you’re takin’ me so good.” His hips began to move—slow at first, testing your limits—before he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He bucked into your mouth with a sharp, unrelenting rhythm, his breath coming harder and faster with every thrust. The sound of his low, guttural groans mixed with the wet noises of your mouth, the lewdness of it only spurring him on. “So perfect,” he praised, his voice cracking as he drove himself deeper. “You were made for this, weren’t you, baby? Look at you—”

The words tumbled out in a broken mix of curses and praise, his hold on you steady but possessive as he guided your head to meet each snap of his hips. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your throat constricting around him as your nails dug into his thighs, but the way he sounded—so utterly wrecked—sent waves of pleasure through you, making you moan around him.

“Fuck,—oh, baby, just like that—” Logan’s voice was strained, raw, his head tilting back as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. He was on the brink, his movements growing more erratic as he neared his edge, but before he could lose himself completely, his hand fisted in your hair, yanking you back with a sudden, desperate motion.

You gasped, panting heavily as your lips parted, your chest heaving as you blinked up at him. His eyes were blown wide, dark with hunger, his lips slightly parted as though trying to catch his breath. Without a word, Logan hauled you upward, crashing his mouth onto yours in a heated, sloppy kiss. His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming every inch of you as he groaned against your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

The kiss was frantic, all teeth and heat as he walked you backward, his hands gripping your waist before spinning you around and throwing you onto the bed. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you, his hands tugging at your clothes with a singular focus, stripping you bare with rough, hurried movements.

“Goddamn,” Logan muttered under his breath, his gaze sweeping over your exposed skin as he sat back just long enough to yank his own shirt over his head. The sight of him—bare-chested, muscles taut and flexing as he moved—sent a fresh rush of heat pooling between your thighs.

Logan’s hands were on you in an instant, his lips crashing down against your neck as he kissed, nipped, and licked his way down your body with a ravenous intensity. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer, his grip firm and possessive as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

“You’re somethin’ else, sunshine,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and low, vibrating through you. His teeth scraped over your collarbone before his tongue soothed the mark, leaving you gasping beneath him.

His lips trailed lower, his hot breath teasing against your chest as his hands slid up, cupping your breasts with a firm, deliberate squeeze. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Logan grinned against your skin when you arched into him, his lips wrapping around one taut peak as his fingers rolled the other, coaxing a breathless moan from your lips.

“Look at you,” he said, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips glistening. His eyes burned with unrestrained hunger as his hands roamed your body, exploring every inch with rough, greedy caresses. “Already fallin’ apart for me, huh?”

You barely managed a nod, your head spinning as his mouth moved lower, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. His hands gripped your thighs, prying them apart as he settled between them, his gaze locked onto yours. The sight alone—Logan on his knees, his broad shoulders pinning your legs open, his lips glistening as he licked them—made your breath hitch.

“Goddamn, you’re a dream,” he rasped, his voice thick with reverence and desire. He dipped his head, his stubble brushing against your inner thighs as his tongue flicked out, teasing along your folds. The first swipe of his tongue sent a shudder through you, and Logan groaned deeply, the sound reverberating against you.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, his lips wrapping around your swollen clit and sucking lightly, drawing a sharp cry from you. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as he worked you over with unrelenting precision.

Logan alternated between long, slow strokes of his tongue and quick, teasing flicks, relishing every sound you made, every twitch of your body beneath him. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he buried his face deeper, his nose brushing against your sensitive nub as his tongue dove inside you.

“God,” he growled against you, his voice rough and dripping with approval. “You’re so fuckin’ sweet, sunshine. Can’t get enough of you.” He pulled back slightly, his lips and chin slick with your arousal as he grinned up at you. “Look at you, practically undone for me already.”

You writhed beneath him, your body trembling as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his fingers replacing his mouth to keep the steady rhythm against your clit. “Logan,” you whimpered, your voice high and desperate, your thighs trembling as heat coiled low in your belly.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, his voice like velvet, his eyes dark and intense as he watched you. “Let go for me, baby. I wanna feel you fall apart.”

You were barely holding onto a thread of sanity, your head spinning, your breath hitching as Logan’s relentless tongue and fingers pushed you higher and higher. Your nails scraped against his scalp, and Logan groaned in response, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge.

Your body arched off the bed as the pressure inside you built to an unbearable peak, every nerve ending ignited under Logan's expert tongue and fingers. The pleasure crashed through you like a tidal wave, your thighs trembling violently as you cried out his name, your hands fisting in his hair.

"That's it," Logan growled against you, his voice dark and dripping with satisfaction as he continued to devour you. "Let it all out for me, sweetheart."

Your orgasm tore through you, so intense that your vision blurred, your entire body trembling as if it couldn’t contain the raw ecstasy coursing through you. Logan didn’t let up for a second, his tongue working you through the aftershocks, prolonging every wave until you were left gasping and shuddering beneath him.

Before you could catch your breath, Logan was on you, his body a solid weight over yours. His hands gripped your hips, and in one swift motion, he buried himself inside you, stealing the remnants of your orgasm and turning them into something even more feral.

“Fuck,” Logan rasped, his voice rough as his hips snapped forward with an unforgiving pace. “Still so tight, baby. I’ve gotcha—just let me take care of you.”

The sensation was overwhelming—his thick cock filling you completely, his relentless rhythm pushing you further into the mattress with every thrust. Your cries mingled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your nails clawing at his back as he moved with a desperate hunger, biting and sucking at your neck, leaving marks that burned and thrilled in equal measure.

“You feel that?” he murmured darkly against your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe before his lips trailed down to your jaw. “This is what you were made for—bein’ mine. My perfect little thing, takin’ me so damn well.”

His hand slid up to your throat, his fingers wrapping around it with a possessive grip that sent a shiver through you. He applied just enough pressure to make your head spin, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with raw intensity. “Look at you, sunshine,” he praised, his voice low and gravelly. “So fuckin’ beautiful when you let go—when you give yourself to me.”

Your moans turned into gasps as he choked you lightly, his thumb brushing along the side of your neck, coaxing you to surrender completely. Logan’s lips found yours again, devouring your cries as his hips slammed into you, his movements erratic and desperate as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

His teeth sank into your shoulder, a primal growl rumbling through his chest as his hand slid down to your thigh, gripping it tightly to spread you wider for him. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, and the sheer force of him sent you spiraling again, your body clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” Logan groaned, his voice breaking as he felt your walls flutter around him. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, so good for me. Gonna make you mine all over again.”

You cried out as another orgasm overtook you, this one more intense than the first, leaving you trembling and incoherent beneath him. Logan’s movements didn’t falter; if anything, they grew rougher, more possessive, his thumb pressing into the base of your throat as his teeth found the tender skin of your collarbone again.

"That's my girl," he growled, his voice sharp with pride and need as your body writhed beneath his. "Look at you, squirtin’ all over me—so fuckin’ perfect.”

Your body gave out beneath him, your vision blurring as the pleasure consumed you entirely. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your cries filling the room as Logan’s relentless pace pushed you to your limits.

Logan’s hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back as he kissed you deeply, his tongue dominating yours as his hips drove forward with punishing intensity. His free hand roamed your body, squeezing, groping, claiming every inch of you as he chased his own release.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough and possessive, his breath hot against your ear as he gave a final, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. His body tensed, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he came, his hips rolling through his climax as if he couldn’t bear to leave your warmth.

Logan collapsed over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his lips brushing against your temple as he murmured softly, his voice still tinged with raw need. “So fuckin’ good, sunshine. My perfect girl.”

Logan’s grip tightened around your waist, his breath ragged as he held you in place, your body still trembling beneath him. His chest heaved, his lips brushing against your ear as he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, savoring the feel of you around him. His voice was low, a dark satisfaction lacing every word.

“See how good it feels to let go, sweetheart?” he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk as his eyes bored into yours. "I told you, just had to trust me."

You didn’t respond with words, your gaze locking onto his as you fought for breath, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. The only sound in the room was your uneven breaths and the faint, rhythmic pulse of his dick still buried deep inside you.

His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you forward with unrelenting force. The kiss he claimed you with was messy and possessive, his tongue dominating yours, tasting, owning you in every way. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, making it harder to breathe, but you didn’t care. You were lost in him, completely, mindlessly, heart in your throat as he claimed you like this.

You were on top of him now, your body straddling him, both of you entwined in a messy, raw dance that didn’t need words—just the wet slide of your lips, the heat of his skin, the desperate shallow thrusts that made everything blur. His kiss was greedy, ferocious, as though he needed you to know that you were his—his plaything, his perfect girl.

You moaned into the kiss, the sensation of him still deep inside you enough to keep your thoughts scattered and incoherent. Logan didn’t pull away. He kept you close, his tongue in your mouth, tasting, owning, until you could barely keep your eyes open, your body consumed by him —sloppy, messy, and completely possessive, as if the world could end and all that mattered was this. All that mattered was you, beneath him, in his arms, on top of him, held and claimed by his every touch.

And as you melted into the kiss, body trembling and mind slipping into a daze of pleasure, everything else faded. All that remained was the feel of him, the sound of his breath, and the heat that still burned between you.

---

a/n: smooches! (reblog pls)

[baka-bakeneko]

You're the worst

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

summary: Logan has gone too far this time.

tags: NSFW, hate/disgust, implied cheating, begging, consensual non consent acts, non consensual kissing, hatefuck, physical anger

Trigger warning: coercion, hatef*ck

By the time Logan had gotten home, you were already blowing out the candles. It was the one day you expected him to come home on time, not drag his Neanderthal claws or stop by the bar. Just this one day...

Logan wasn't expecting you to be up at all. He thought he'd be able to sneak by you curled up in bed to take a shower. He stiffened at the sight of you, your head in your hands waiting in boredom.

When you stood, Logan's heart stung at the sight of you in a little black dress. A number that teased just the middle of your thighs, your shoulders bare for your dress to be held up by its tightness around your chest.

He took in your stature, eyes raking down your smooth legs as you tossed the food from two plates into the trash. Logan was enraptured all over again with you, even though your body language was nothing short of scathing.

He pulled out of his head at the moment you smashed one of the plates into the sink, exploding ceramic about the kitchen counter before stamping away in your black chunky heels.

"Fuck," he muttered as you shot daggers at him, watching as you heavy handed the open bottle of wine on the table and snatched it away, making your way to the bedroom.

He dragged his knuckles over his eyes with a grimace, stepping into the apartment and slamming the door after him. "Honey, I'm home."

You flipped him off, putting your lips to the bottle to take a deep swig. Logan looked over to the dining table, dressed up with a tablecloth, roses and candles. He sneered, his heart sinking further.

He'd knew he'd forgotten something, but didn't think of it as the thing. Logan stared after you, deeply exhaling as he braced his hands to the kitchen counter.

You sat on the bed, readying everything you wanted to tell Logan whenever he decided to approach you.

He pushed open the door, glancing over at you before walking to the bathroom. You pushed to your feet, following Logan into the bathroom and shoving his shoulder.

"And where were you all night?" You finally asked.

Logan shrugged his shoulder away, straightening up to glance over his shoulder. He carefully peeled off his jacket, then his shirt and dropped them both on bathroom floor.

"At the bar," Logan offered, sparing a bit of truth.

You stared at his back, your jaw going taut at the uneven decoration of marks on his pristine yet hairy back. They were long, thin and red along his shoulders. They were hatchmarked down his back before half-moon marks were stamped into his sides.

Logan glanced back at you through the mirror, gulping subtly as he rubbed away the lipstick stain on his chest and stomach.

You shoved him again, grabbing his shoulder to turn him around. His hands paused on his pectoral and abs respectively, lazily stashing the bright red smudges from your gaze.

Staring at him, your eyes began to burn and well. Grabbing his jaw aggressively, you snatched his face to the side and took in the bright red hickeys on his body.

You scoffed, throwing his face away from you before turning to leave. It was like he was parading it on purpose, it not even healed to hide evidence.

Logan grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him, folding over you to kiss your neck eagerly.

"Stop, I love you, I love you." His voice was gruff and pleading, his alcoholic breath berating over your shoulder.

His arms curled around your waist, wanting to keep you long enough to coax you down. But you continued to bristle, elbowing into his side and worming out of his hold.

"Fuck you, you're the worst," you gasped, clawing onto the counter then the doorway before finally exiting the bathroom.

Logan stood by for a moment then followed you out to grab your wrist again. He spun you around and grabbed your face, forcing his lips onto yours.

"You're so beautiful," he tried again, kissing you to keep your harsh words at bay.

You reached out to shove him away, but he caught your wrists in his as his hand on your face grazed down to your neck.

You wormed away from his tart mouth, barely escaping another kiss as he trailed his lips down your jaw. His chops brushed against your skin, and you whined at the feeling.

Your stomach was oily and hot, disgusted by this man crawling back to you after what he'd done.

"Fuck you," you spat, trying your hands to get them free.

Logan turned you and pressed you up against the nearest wall, holding your hands above your head as he slotted himself behind you.

"I missed you," he crooned into your neck, his free hand sliding down your back to follow the natural curve of your spine.

"Bullshit!" You screeched, lifting a foot to kick him in the crotch.

He crumbled to his knees with a groan, releasing you. You gathered yourself again, righting your dress by pulling it up. Stepping out of his hold, you scoffed at him.

"Fuck you, Logan. Fuck you!" You yelled, grabbing and tossing the bottle of wine at the wall behind him.

"You did this shit on purpose, I know it." You continued, riled up with anger and disgust. "I know you. You ruin everything good on purpose!"

Logan sat on his haunches, in the remnant of green glass and wine exploded behind him. He lifted his head, glaring at you from under his heavy brow.

He said nothing, only stared further at you, far enough away to take in your full attire. You were previously dressed for romance, but now it felt vengeful.

Logan exhaled, holding a hand out for you. "Sweetheart."

You screeched in distaste, knowing his hands couldn't reach you but stepping back anyways. You stared as he started to claw his way towards you, his raw nails scraping the hardwood floor.

You backed into your nightstand, examining your next exit strategy. Logan bent at your feet, kissing at your open ankles of the shoes. You stamped out of his hold, his hand clamping the back of your calves to climb his kisses further.

His lips were warm, damp as he started to heave unevenly. "Please," he pleaded, his kisses making their way up to the insides of your knees.

You remained cold, holding strong will though your body began to react to him. Logan's hands slithered up your body, caressing the backs of your thighs before sliding under your dress to cup your ass.

You raised your foot to step on his crotch, so ready to squash him down again. However, Logan grabbed your leg, lifting it to sit you on the nightstand.

His lips resumed on your lifted leg, furthering up your inside thigh. Your breath caught, watching frozen as he continued with pushing the skirt of your dress up.

You grabbed at his hair, tugging harshly to pull him off of you. Staring at him, his beautiful brown eyes now dirty and soiled with the tempt of lies. His lips, though once sweet, were disgusting and dry even if they still felt warm on your skin.

The grip on his hair tightened and he bared his teeth at you.

"Get fucking mad at me," he ordered, his voice barely withholding his growl.

"You're pathetic," you spat out; the more you stared, the more you actually wanted to spit on him.

He was turning you off of him with every action, though your body never showed a difference.

"Madder," he gruffed, his nose flaring at you.

Your chest felt hot, your breaths shortened and you actually spat at him. Logan opened his mouth, taking your disgust in a way you weren't expecting. He swallowed it, then planted his lips to your thigh again.

You flinched, your furrowed brows turning down as Logan inched forward. You whined, shutting your eyes, almost ready to let him win.

But as his breath wafted through the mesh of your new lingerie, you regained yourself. You snatched Logan's head out of your dress, smushed his face away before scrambling to the bed. You crawled over it, edging out of Logan's hold.

Just as you felt out of reach, Logan grabbed your ankle and dragged you back. You held at your skirt for it to not ride up and Logan flipped you onto your back.

He pulled you up to sit on the bed, resuming his kneeling before you. "I'm trying to make it up to you."

You seethed, shoving his shoulders away. "There is nothing to make up! I hate you, Logan. I hate you!"

Logan shut you up with another kiss, this time keeping his hands to himself. You peeled back with disgust, your chest heaving ready to sob.

His face was scrunched in upset, every attempt to bring you back to him failing. He rested his forehead to your cheek, his breathing in uneven huffs.

"I don't know why I did it," he finally admitted, shutting his eyes to keep them from welling. "I had a moment of weakness."

You tried to shrug him away, his breath on your shoulder melting at your angst.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, his voice dropping an notch.

Logan took in your silence, your body unmoving to push him off. He slumped to your lap, wrapping his arms around your waist to soak in your momentary benevolence.

He wasted no time to make things right, nosing under your dress again and wedging your thighs apart with his chin.

You allowed him so with a disgusted look to the sky, awaiting a new wave of willpower before Logan got to you.

However he was quicker, licking at your wet pussy from behind your mesh undies. You succumbed to your elbows, spreading your legs and squeezing your eyes shut to think of a different Logan, a better Logan having his way.

You bit into your bottom lip, trying to not enjoy Logan's tongue as he slid your panties to the side and slipped his tongue into you. You wriggled on the bed, fighting your pleasure though Logan was invested.

He found this to be his redemption, doing his best while caressing your legs. When he parted from you, he expected the signature look of desire from you.

But he was met with a look of disdain. He watched as you turned over, righting on your knees before pulling up your dress.

You'd give this to him, as you had planned at the beginning of the night. Only now it'd end very differently. Logan reached a hand out to caress your back, relax you as he undid his belt with a hand.

When he reached your shoulder, you flinched his hand away. You peeled your panties down quickly and prepared yourself for Logan's girth.

He coaxed his tip against your lips, then pressed into you which made you hide your face in the mattress.

You'd miss how he felt inside you.

Logan slammed his hips into you, grabbing onto your dress. You held at the front of your dress against the mattress, not allowing him anything further.

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry." He grunted, starting his languid strokes. "You feel so good."

You grimaced at his words, tears tempting the corners of your eyes. Logan admired the natural beauty of your back, wracking his mind with guilt.

What was he thinking? Wronging someone as beautiful as you?

You kept your movements rigid, not giving Logan a spectacle like you usually did. You followed his strokes, meeting his thrusts to speed up the process.

"You feel so much..." He tried, but instantly bit his tongue.

The tinge of his blood dotted his mouth, making him pause in speaking. Whatever he was trying to say it'd come out wrong, he didn't want to push you away.

You were already detached, waiting out Logan until you got your satisfaction. He'd work extra hard for you to forgive him, do everything in his power to undo this night.

But it wouldn't be enough.

You were close, thinking of your best distant fantasy not associated with him. Logan felt himself drifting from you, he bent over to kiss the back of your neck.

You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back your disgust for this man. Though with a sniffle, you'd miss his natural musk.

"Love me again, I'll spend every day making it up to you," Logan whispered against your ear.

He kissed your cheek, down your neck before you cut away to whimper. Your stomach flipped in a new wave, this time at yourself as you came at the utterance of his words.

It was lies. You had to convince yourself so, otherwise you'd fall into the trap of his arms and never leave.

You shoved Logan off of you, sitting up with him rolling onto his back. He expected a new position, your moans of forgiveness while you gave back to him though he didn't deserve it.

But he was met with your bottom lip reddened from biting, pouting, and your eyes watering. Logan's heart dropped from his chest, leaving his limbs cold. He felt his cock shrink by the sight of you, broken and disgusted.

You stood up, wobbling slightly with your heels then went to pack a bag. Logan watched you gather clothes, no longer fighting as he dropped his head back to the bed.

"Baby..." he tried one last time, raising his head as you slung a hefty bag onto your shoulder.

You righted your dress, peeling your panties off and tossing them at Logan's chest before starting for the door.

"Happy Anniversary, Logan."

[icarusredwings]

Johnathan the Wolverine

Spoilers: All new Wolverine, x23

Ft. Johnathan chewing on baby groot, johnathans kits, goth gabby, and Gabbys future suit!

"Goth Gabby isn't real"

Goth Gabby:

Also Johnathan in a suit

[junkfoodcinemas]

X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009) dir. Gavin Hood

[asgardswinter]

Wade is all of us

[paintedimagery]

Honestly, they should've hired me for a poster. I think I'd have done great.

[m0rbs]

Ok I’ll just start the x-men posting off with this one. Pretty much the first thing I drew upon realizing that they were spinning in my head and I was screwed

(Btw, I finally caved and made a bluesky account; my handle is m0rbs.bsky.social)

[unhingedbrothers]

HUGH JACKMAN as JAMES HOWLETT / LOGAN X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE (2009), dir. Gavin Hood

[nanivinsmoke]

✿ back to sleep

smut (18+), riding, creampie.

riding logan early in the morning had to be your favorite thing.

it would sometimes happen more frequently than you’d think, fucking each other back to sleep; even though you did most of the work.

his morning wood combined with your morning dew had you dripping more than usual.

he would wake up, feeling strained; cock pressing into your ass as he spooned you, and you’d wake up a few seconds later—ready to get on top.

he loved when you’d get on top, looking so blissfully fucked out, but he loved it even more when you turned around on him—your plump ass jiggling in his face.

his beater that you’d wear, would rise up each time you bounced. the mix of your fluids that would build up, coat around his shaft and made a sexy squelching noise each time you came down on him; had him going crazy.

logan loved it especially when you’d turn your head slightly, catching his eyes; with your face contorted in pleasure. and when he noticed a tear falling out of your eyes, it made him cling to the bedsheets. not because you were in pain or anything, but because it was feeling wayyyy to good for you.

“sh-shit, baby. you’re gonna make me cum~” you’d breathed out—to fucked out to say anything else.

“go ahead, doll. cum for me~” he’d bring his hips up and jackhammer the hell out of you—kissing your squishy cervix with each thrust. and then you let go, with him right behind you—milky white ropes of mixing with yours.

you’d pull off of him and lie right down, falling asleep next to each other; as his cum spills out of you.

you loved riding logan. but, you also loved being creampied right before bed.

[dorkszn]

......Logan fucking you face down ass up while smoking a cigar

FACE DOWN ASS UP THATS THE WAY I LIKE TO GET—

quick lil drabble, gn reader, heavy overstim, pain kink, dacryphilia, smoking, sadism and masochism elements, pet names, a little bit mean dom logan, nsfw under the cut, not proofread

He’s fucking you so mean too. His free hand wrap around the back of your neck, pushing your head down into the pillows. A ring of your mixed cum forming around his wide base. Your hands clutching at whatever you can. That perfect arch in your back that Logan practically molded into you. Tears glistening on your lashes because it’s just so much.

Meanwhile, Logan’s just taking puffs of his cigar. Blowing the smoke out of his lips and letting it fill your senses and intoxicate your (damn near turned to mush) brain. He basically taunting you with it. That you’re so fucked out and messed up while he’s just smoking and absolutely ruining you.

You’re weakly moving before you can think. Which you can barely do anyways. Trying to crawl away from him just for a second because it feels so good but you’re so sensitive it almost hurts. “Lo, can’t— ngh, can’t take it,” you moan out pathetically.

Only for him to grab your hips with both hands and pull you back to him with minimal effort. Stuffing you to the hilt with his cock and making your legs nearly give out under you. “Yes, you can, darlin’. Stop tellin’ me what you can’t take.” He responds, words slightly muffled by the cigar between his lips. His words nearly push the tears over while making you tighten around him at the same time. The cigar almost falling from his lips as he groans due to the feeling off your warm walls hugging his dick.

What does finally make the tears spill from your glossy eyes is when he presses the butt of his cigar against your ass. And it’s entirely intentional. He watches as your skin reddens and burns slightly. Your words fall into weak, broken cries at the feeling but it also makes that knot in your stomach clench further.

“Shh, s’okay, sweetheart,” he says to you softly as he leans down, pressing his hairy chest into your back while pressing hot, open mouthed kisses down your skin. The sting of his cigar still prominent along with the stretch of his cock with every thrust. “S’okay, it looks pretty on ya.”

[drawingsmariae]

Besito

[acdtaaz]

commission for @wintersummer--3232 !! 🫂❤️‍🩹

[embbarnes]

Manhandle. | L.H

summary: Feral-ish Logan is obsessed with you.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | Porn no plot | Soft dom!Logan | PiV | Unprotected sex | Swearing | Light degrading | Dirty talk | Cunnilingus | Aftercare

a/n: I will die on the hill that Logan loves his partners a little chubby. Idc. I didn't have the patience to edit this ignore mistakes pleaseee. Reposted after deleting, reprised a little bit but I didn't bother to edit it so ignore mistakes. ;; wc: 2.4k

Logan cannot stand you for one reason and one reason alone: You drive him crazy.

Why the fuck are you so soft? Why do your hips sway so much? Why are you so doe eyed and sweet smelling?

His cock twitches in his pants as he sees you talking to another mutant. Fuck. He doesn't like it. He wants you for himself. He needs you for himself.

That's exactly what he does.

He grabs you and tugs you along, you of course go with him, being so sweet and naïve...when you're alone, he practically rips your clothes off. He normally would tease and play with you more, but he can't help himself. He's too eager, his patience is diminished.

Your soft gasp when he tore the fabric from your body made his balls grow heavy and a low growl rumble out of him. You were beautiful to him, your body drove him crazy. He felt hotter than normal, like he was going to die if he didn't have you. You made the most pathetic sound when his hand pushed between your legs and felt your soft folds, his calloused fingertips finding that sweet little pearl. "Fuckin' wet for me...from rippin' y'r clothes off, huh? You like it like this? Bein' manhandled?"

You felt your face heat up and your legs trembled, threatening to give out at any second. You stammered, unable to come up with a solid reply as you pathetically tried while his thick fingers explored your folds confidently. They prodded your entrance, making you tense a bit.

"Y'r tight, my damn finger has a hard time gettin' in here...how are you gonna handle my cock, princess?" he grabbed your face with his free hand, tilting your head up as he kissed you. His lips were warm, the taste of cigar and whiskey on them, a hint of salt and jerky. You melted into his kiss, even though he was claiming you this way. His tongue pushed into your mouth, invading you and exploring every inch as if he owned you. His teeth gently bit your bottom lip, he didn't want to overwhelm you too much, not yet anyway.

"That's it...whimperin' for me...you love this, I can tell by how wet you are. Can't imagine my cock in there...it's so tiny...have you ever been fucked before?" he grunts deeply in your ear, the sound making your entire body react as you shake. Your nipples erect and feeling stimulated by the fabric of his shirt as he stands close enough to rub against you.

"Logan...I...mmn, I have I just...-"

"You've never been with me baby, I'll show ya what a real man can do. I know when y'r fakin' too, you won't have to do that with me." He chuckled, his hand moving away from your dripping core and he grabbed your plush hips, lifting you up while his hands massages and groped the meat of your ass and thighs. "Goddamn...these things..." He threw you onto his bed, his hand on your belly for a moment, kneading you.

"Logan-!"

"I gotcha...just let me take care of you..." Logan's voice was gentle, but he sounded slightly condescending as he spoke to you, the clear teasing undertone made you whimper in response. His hands pawed at you like a man who had seen a naked woman for the first time, on your breasts, sides, hips. Hs grabbed your thighs again, eagerly holding onto your flesh and spreading your legs apart for him. "Such a fat cunt you have, looks comfy, you'll treat my dick well won't you, sweet thing? Perfect little home for it...that's where it belongs isn't it? You're lost without my dick in you."

You squirmed below him, feeling vulnerable and exposed as he held you down. You couldn't deny how hot your pussy felt, you wanted to demand for him to stick it in, to just fuck you into the mattress, but you also didn't want to admit it, playing the game a bit. Besides, Logan was clearly enjoying how you were acting, so you kept it up.

"Ah...please..." You begged lightly, your legs falling limp and allowing him to open them wider. You felt so horny by now, Logan had a way of bringing it out of you. Your core felt like it was on fire, and you needed his touch more than air.

He placed open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, his teeth grazing the thin skin and biting your flesh teasingly. You could feel the slick, warm muscle of his tongue barely touch your sensitive skin as he continued to knowingly tease you. After his painfully slow movements, he finally got to your center, his pupils blown like he was on drugs.

Logan growled deeply, exhaling through slightly parted lips as his hands came around and held your thighs tightly. His head lowered, nose nudged your clit as this man took a deep inhale of your sex. Your face heated immediately, suddenly feeling embarrassed he was smelling you so intensely. His nose buried, your wetness covering it as he investigated further into you until he was satisfied memorizing your scent.

When he pulled up, he barely pulled away for you to say something about his little display and his lips latched onto your clit, knowing exactly where it was after mapping out your cunt mentally. He was torn between making you squirm and beg, or just taking what he wanted. You were intoxicating to him, he hadn't felt his cock throbbing to painfully before, patience was not an option right now.

You made the sweetest sound for him when his encased your clit in his mouth, his lips securing around that pretty pearl and he lightly sucked on it. His firm hands held you still while you naturally squirmed around from the stimulation, keeping you down even when you tried to buck into his mouth more. Logan pulled back enough for his breath to warm your swollen bud, and he grunted, "Stay still. You don't get to move. I'll make you cum, I'll decide when you've had enough."

The tiny whimper that left your trembling lips was enough encouragement, but he wanted to push a little more. So, the smug bastard leaned up and over you, glaring down, his wet lips shining against the dull light of the room peering through his always drawn curtains. Still, when the warm sunlight did peek through, he looked gorgeous.

"Say it. Say you understand."

"I...I understand..." you swallowed the thick lump in your throat, not realizing how tight it felt until you spoke again. He smirked down at you, his eyes raking over your form and he let his hands knead your body a bit more. "So soft...perfect for me. I can really throw you around hm? You can take it..." he groaned as he felt your body, his hands moving up to your breasts and holding them, massaging and pinching your nipples like an eager virgin.

Logan moved down again, his mouth drooled as he took your clit once more, his tongue lapping and teasing the bud before dipping inside your entrance. He tasted you, groaning like an animal at your taste as his tongue went deeper. You hooked your leg around his shoulder and pulled him closer, finding a loophole in keeping your hips still.

Luckily for you, he enjoyed it enough to allow it.

"Stop squirmin' princess...I've almost gotcha ready." He continued to work your pussy until he felt like you were ready enough. He pulled away and licked his lips, "Now...open those pretty lips." he swiped his fingers over your folds and then held them to your pouty face. "You're such a dirty girl...doing everything I say, aren't you?"

He lightly spanked your pussy, then pressed his dick into your folds and rubbed to slicken himself. When did he take his pants off?

You were interrupted when his fat head poked your entrance, forcing you to stretch out around the soft flesh and allow him in. You mewled desperately, the burn of it was so addicting. "Lo...Logan..!"

"Shh, sh, you can take it." he whispered and pushed until his head popped inside. You gasped, just his head made you feel dizzy. And he kept going.

Inch after inch.

You were squirming and crying softly, he was so big, ugh it felt amazing but overwhelming all at once. "L-Lo..Logan, I..aah," you blabbered, his thumbs swiped your temples as he chuckled down at you, his body keeping you warm. He pressed his scruffy cheek into yours so he could whisper to you while his hips rocked against you, his wet head smacking gentle, sloppy kisses to your swollen cervix.

"Shh, good girl, gooood girl," he praised you in a low, soothing tone, his voice contradicting what his body was doing to you. You felt like you were on fire, pleasure was shooting through every inch of you while that delightful burn remained as strong as ever. "Y'r doin' good...so good. Takin' all of me inside ya...knew you could."

Logan's hips moved faster inside you, driving himself in and out at a much better pace for the both of you. He held your legs up and watched himself move in and out of you, admiring the beautiful arousal that coated into his curls. He deliberately made slow, long thrusts so you could feel the mold of his cock perfectly.

Every vein, the spongy head, how his cock formed your velvet walls and made you adjust.

It was everything you could've wanted from him.

While you memorized the shape of his dick, he suddenly threw your legs around his waist and he leaned over you, causing your hips to come up and off the bed a little. He began to drive himself inside at an animalistic, rough pace while he held you. His teeth bared as he let out the deepest snarl you ever heard from him. "You make me fuckin' wild, baby...look what y'r doin'...I'm actin' like how I should. A fuckin' animal."

You sobbed lightly from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, his cock hitting that delicious spongy spot inside that made you see stars. "Logan!! M'gonna cum...!" you cried, your fists balling the sheets by your head as you let out all your little sounds you tried to hide.

There was no reason to hide them anymore, honestly.

He kept going just as he was, knowing his movements and pace were perfect for you. "That's it...yeah baby, cum on my cock, show me how much you like it, milk my cock." Logan held your hips firm, his fingers dug into your flesh as he focused on his thrusts, driving deeper and deeper.

You finally let out a strangled cry, your vision blurring as your body released around him, clamping down on his dick like a vice and almost messing up his rhythm. Logan hissed, "G-goddamn-"

"I'm cumming, fuck! Don't stop, keep going, keep fucking me!" you screamed desperately, reaching you and clawing his shoulder blades, your hips rocking against his thrusts as your mind just focused on riding out your orgasm for as long as possible. He moved with you until he finally let loose, one single thrust in and his cock swelled and exploded against your pretty cervix, spraying his cum inside and filling up your little hole. He dripped out of you as he continued to fill you up, cum squeezing past his cock plugging your pussy, but the sheer amount of it couldn't be contained completely.

Logan's chest rose and fell quickly, his skin in a thin sheen from sweat, as was yours, and you both stilled as you regained your breaths together. You were in a complete daze, your mind foggy from pleasure and good hormones, his dick still buried inside you and felt so right.

"Good girl...fuck, my girl." he grumbled and nudged your head to the side with his own, kissing your jaw. "Did so well...down we go, easy," he lowered your legs while speaking to you gently, pulling himself from your body and watching as his cum flowed out of you. You whined at the absence of him, he just tsked and shushed you.

"Ah, don't give me that...we have to get you cleaned up. Be good for me, and I'll make sure you're nice and cozy after." Logan chuckled at your dazed expression, lifting you up a bit and smirking at how you whined into him.

"Logan....noo, just a little longer..." You pleaded lightly, trying your best to convince him, but he was not going to give in. Instead he picked you up with ease, your weight didn't bother him in the slightest, and he carried you to the bathroom.

"Clean first, then we can lay all you want." He set you down in the bathroom, knowing you were very exhausted by now and most likely coming down from your orgasm high, so he made the clean up quick. His touches were gentle, carefully washing the rag over your body and between your legs, getting all the sticky cum washed away. He stood behind you and kissed the nape of your neck, giving you goosebumps even under the hot water. "Doin' good for me...keep it up, we're almost done princess..."

When you were finally finished, you were so relieved to lay on the clean bed. Your body was much more worn out than you thought, before you collapsed, your legs trembled and almost refused to hold you up. You snuggled into the sheets, smelling heavily of Logan plus a hint of the earthy cologne he rarely wears.

He joined you a few minutes later, his strong arms wrapped around you and held you close. His hand slowly caressed up and down your side, gently squeezing and massaging you. His presence and the tiredness hit you after cleaning, and the drop of hormones made you want to sleep. Your body turned towards him, your face burying in his chest as you let out a shaky breath.

"Easy...I gotcha...sleepy girl. Go on and take a nap, I'll stick with ya until you wake...promise." He kissed the crown of your head and held you firmly against him, knowing you were going to fall asleep any second. You drove him so wild but he also felt a strong need for you in other ways. He wanted you for himself in every shape and form, you were so beautiful, and he would make sure you believed it and saw yourself as he did.

If he couldn't convince you with words, well...he can always fuck you again and make you see.

Thanks for reading - em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

[window-to-oblivion]

"Under the lights"

[bluravenite]

some of the x-men sketches i promised 🫡💖‼️