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xlocalxpunkx · 9 months ago

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my little voyeur

neighbour!loganxvoyeur!reader

a/n: so sorry about the hiatus, started university and midterms are already here, crazy. anyway, enjoy this little idea i had, inspired by a real life situation. xox

wc:3.1k

MDNI !!! 18+, AGE GAP, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL USE

summary: Y/N is growing needier with every one-night stand her hot neighbour brings over, one night she decides to be his next.

"-Oh fuck, keep going!" A muffled voice cried between the rhythmic thumping noises that came from the ceiling above you.

You bit down on your lip, shifting needily on your sofa.

"Here we go again" You mumbled to yourself, glancing at the clock on your microwave.

8:37 PM.

"Earlier than usual... Do you have to be somewhere early tomorrow?" You pressed the mute button on your TV remote to get a better listen.

The intrigue in your neighbour's activity had been a shameful recent development. He'd have company over almost every night now; which meant constant, rough sex.

The shared two-story house was old, and the walls were poorly insulated, which surely didn't aid your newfound obsession. Your unit was the basement suite: a homely one-bedroom, one-bathroom with a large kitchenette and living room. Even though you both lived in the same quarters, you both had your own respective spaces and entrances, which meant you rarely crossed paths.

You knew little about the man upstairs, only that he lived alone, wasn't the talkative type, and rode a Harley Davidson that was equally as loud as his one-night stands.

Though it was ill-mannered of him to be as careless as he was, you couldn't stop yourself from being attracted to him. He might've had a good twenty years on you, but that didn't matter in this case.

The man was in phenomenal shape for his age; You had come home one day to him working on his bike, shirtless. His physique was composed of thick broad shoulders that counterbalanced his narrow waist and muscular biceps that bulged beneath his skin, flowing seamlessly into veiny forearms. Dark curls of hair stretched downwards from his brawny chest, over his chiselled abs and disappeared into the denim waistband of his wranglers.

To pair with that irresistible body, was a charmingly rugged face. Thick, untamed eyebrows cast a shadow over his piercing hazel eyes, while dense sideburns traced the sharp angles of his jawline. His short, spiked hair flared into two distinct tufts on either side of his head, adding to his wild, primal look.

"-Logan! I'm coming!" The voice screamed. Since this all began, you found yourself feeling rather bitter. Not only was it rude and annoying but from what you managed to pick up, most nights they would be playing out the very type of fantasies you'd always had but never got the chance to experience.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling that excitement slowly pool in your lower stomach. You knew this would end soon, Logan seemed to have quite the routine, so your impending neediness wouldn't go any farther.

His partners were usually dead silent for the rest of the night, presumably busy sleeping off the intense sex, which made the inconvenience somewhat tolerable. The only time they would potentially disturb you again was as they made their exit down the stairs the morning after. You could catch glimpses of them as they passed in front of your kitchen window, usually around the time you'd be having your coffee.

From the looks of it, he had a type: girls your age. They'd always be dressed in last night's skimpy outfit, with knotted hair, but somehow still looked gorgeous. As they stumble their way to the taxi at the edge of the driveway. You'd observe them closer pressing up the glass, often spiking your jealousy.

The first few you had laid eyes on made you snicker a jaded"How original." But you were well used to it by now.

Logan was your typical walking mid-life crisis; Bringing home adventurous young women, fucking their brains out, sending them away in a yellow chariot and never talking to them again. From the frequency of these one-night stands it looked as if he was trying to satisfy a hunger he couldn't seem to fulfill. Almost like preparing for hibernation.

He was living the bachelor life that men his age could only dream of having, but there was something about the whole routine that felt...off. It was as if every conquest left him more empty, more distant and detached from everything and everyone around him. It wasn't just women that Logan indulged in, he was also a heavy drinker. You could tell by the recycling bin, always overflowing with liquor bottles, and the fact that the few times you'd been to The Black Lodge—the only bar in small-town Burns, Alaska—you had seen him there

You watched from your bar stool, careful to remain unnoticed. The brief exchanges between him and the bartender made it clear he was a regular—no need for small talk, just an easy, practiced silence. Logan's eyes, however, never lingered on the glass of neat whiskey in front of him. Instead, his gaze swept over the crowd, scanning for his next target, his posture relaxed but predatory. Despite his intimidating exterior, there was something magnetic about the way he worked the room, luring them in with lustful glances. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was built to win.

His trophy shelf was overflowing, yet there was no trace of happiness in Logan’s eyes.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Logan everyone else saw—rough around the edges, careless, chewing through women and booze as if they were nothing more than fleeting distractions. Or was there something deeper, a hidden tenderness that only emerged behind closed doors? He never had family or friends over, just a revolving door of women. His life seemed lonely, private, and it made you wonder what demons gnawed at him when the nights grew quiet and the distractions faded away.

Was it trauma?

Regret?

Or just the inevitable realization that his time was running out?

A part of you cared and wanted to be there for him, but it wasn't as simple as ringing his doorbell, he was unapproachable. During the few interactions you shared, he made it unmistakably clear that he had no interest in forming any kind of relationship with you. His responses were dry and curt, laced with a dismissive tone that cut down any hope of connection. Each word felt like a brick wall being built between you. He practically didn't look at you the entire time, keeping his eyes focused everywhere else but on yours. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with every exchange, it was as if he was purposefully keeping you at arm's length.

Through your confusion, you understood why. You weren't what he was interested in, you couldn't contribute to his unfaltering hunger. You were more than happy to not be categorized with what he'd bring home from the bar, but a slight part of you wished that for one night, you would be.

The selections were slim in Burns and you were newer to the area, which made it impossible to call for a late-night booty call, unlike him. It had been a long time since you'd last been with someone and the constant exposure to Logan's fruitful sex life made you grow needier by the day, which is where your obsession initially formed.

It began with something small, almost too innocent to notice. You found yourself paying closer attention to his everyday routine, drawn by curiosity. You’d glance out the window to check if his motorcycle was parked in the yard, and when you heard the faint sound of his footsteps starting the day, you’d instinctively check the clock taking mental notes of his wake-up times.

Before you knew it, your interest had evolved into something deeper, something far more personal. You began noticing his trash in your shared waste bin; discarded remnants of his life blending into your obsession. At the liquor store, you found yourself buying the same brand of beer he preferred, curious to experience the taste that would linger on his lips if you kissed him. At the supermarket, you began to choose the same detergent, not for practical reasons, but to breathe in the scent that clung to his skin.

There was a day that he left his Johnny Cash shirt outside. He tossed it on the ground carelessly after working up a sweat while fixing something in the yard. When he left, you ran out and took it. As your compulsion grew, so did your need for closeness to him. The shirt became more than just a relic of him—it was a trigger.

You began wearing it late at night, feeling its used fabric against your skin. While the sounds of him having sex filtered through the thin walls. The rhythmic creaking of his bed upstairs, the faint moans, you’d inhale it deeply, lost in his scent. You'd thrust your fingers deep inside of you, following along with his rhythm, imagining it was him inside you—picturing how Logan would take control, filling you with the intensity you longed for. In those moments, it was as if he belonged to you, even if just in fantasy.

Your cheeks flushed red as you listened along, It was become too much to handle. You unmuted your episode and got up, needing to find some distraction.

"It’s almost over," you told yourself, trying to ignore the urge to grab his shirt and take care of things right then and there. Instead, you walked over to the unpacked boxes in the corner of your living room, hoping to find a distraction.

As you opened the cardboard, you started sifting through the mismatched stuff crammed inside. Your fingers brushed against something soft and bristly, sparking your curiosity. You tightened your grip and pulled it out for a better look. To your surprise, it was an old wig from a Halloween costume—vivid and wild, a memory you had almost forgotten.

The faint sounds you were trying so hard to ignore managed to slip through anyway, sparking a devilish idea as you twirled the wig in your hands. You were going to get his attention, whether he liked it or not. A mischievous grin spread across your face; this could be your way in. It was time to shake things up and show him a side of you he hadn’t seen yet.

It was the next day, and you knew for sure that Logan would be at that bar, just like he was every Thursday. You stepped inside, adjusting the wig discreetly, tucking away any hint of your natural colour, determined to become someone new for the night. This was a wild idea, but desperate times called for bold measures. You were dying for some relief and he was the only remedy for this ache you couldn’t shake.

The bar buzzed with energy, a lively crowd which meant you had competition. But tonight, you were set on one thing: going home with him, and anyone else.

You’d dressed the part—skin exposed, tight-fitting clothes that hugged your curves just right, making you feel both powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

You scanned the bar, your heart racing as you spotted him in his usual seat. The moment you walked in, his eyes locked onto you, holding your attention captive. You averted your gaze and took a shaky breath, your feet guiding you across the room, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Pretending not to notice his gaze, you played coy, an enticing smile dancing on your lips. You slid into the seat across from him and reached for the black menu that lay before you, feigning interest in the options. Your eyes traced the words, but your mind was elsewhere—focused on the weight of his stare and the electric tension building between you.

The bartender approached, and you quickly ordered the first thing your eyes landed on, feeling a rush of nerves. You folded the menu neatly, deliberately turning your attention to the crowd, avoiding his gaze, you weren't playing his game, you were playing yours. The thrill of the chase sent a shiver down your spine. The bar chattered around you, laughter and conversation creating a lively backdrop as you focused on maintaining an air of nonchalance, even as you could feel his eyes on you, studying you with that intensity.

A beautiful stemmed glass slid in front of you, snapping your attention to your hands. You mumbled a thankyou and you took a sip, savouring the sweet burn as it slid down your throat. It gave you a moment to gather your thoughts. Just as you were about to steal a glance his way, you noticed from your peripheral that he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. That confident look told you he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Nice wig," he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the bar like a knife. The compliment sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you kept your expression cool, shooting him a sidelong glance as if you were just as unfazed by him.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. “Just thought I’d switch things up a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. The game was on, and you were ready to play.

Logan leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It suits you, it's different.”

You felt a thrill at his words, the compliment warming you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You kept your composure, but inside, your heart raced. “I like keeping things interesting,” you replied, matching his playful tone.

The atmosphere around you shifted slightly, the crowd fading into the background as you locked eyes again. The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken possibilities. You could sense the magnetic pull between you intensifying, and it was exhilarating.

He took a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Well, you're doing a good job of doing that."

You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence. “It's just a little bit of fun for a Thursday night. What about you? Same old routine, I bet?”

His smirk widened a glint of challenge in his eyes. “You could say that. But maybe I’m looking for something different tonight.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. This was the moment you’d been waiting for. You leaned forward, pushing your breasts together. “Well, that's hard to imagine. What’s your idea of different?”

Logan’s eyes dropped to your cleavage. “How about we take this conversation somewhere a little more private?” His voice was low, rich with promise, and it sent a jolt of anticipation through you.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning casualness even as your heart raced. "And where would that be?”

He chuckled softly, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “How about the upstairs at your place?”

The two of you made your way up the narrow staircase, the familiar creak of the wooden steps echoed in the silence. You could feel the heat radiating off him, each step heightening the anticipation of what was to come. You both reached his door, and his keys jingled as he unlocked it.

The door swung open, and you stepped inside as he held the door open for you. The soft light from his living room illuminated the space, casting warm shadows that danced along the walls. The place was surprisingly tidy, with the scent of cedar and booze lingering in the air.

Logan followed you in, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click that sent a thrill down your spine. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You didn't know what you expected but it wasn't this. You took in the details of his space—artwork hung at odd angles, a well-worn couch sat invitingly in the center, and an empty whiskey glass perched on the coffee table. It was comfortable, lived-in, and spoke to the kind of man he was.

“Nice place,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your pulse quickened as you caught the intensity of his gaze. A beat passed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, a hint of seriousness threading through his playful tone.

Your heart raced at the implication of his question. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” you replied biting your lip, voice steady from a boldness surging through you.

Logan smirked, his expression shifting from playful to something more primal and dark.

“Good. Because I don’t plan on holding back. Gotta teach you a lesson after all,”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, backing you against the wall with a firm press of his body. The warmth of him enveloped you, and you felt your breath hitch as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. As he grabbed your face, his calloused fingers dug into your cheeks roughly, parting your lips open.

“I know you took my shirt, you fucking freak,” he murmured, his voice thick and husky.

You were unable to form words as you felt the threat of what was to come flood your senses. Your heartbeat stammered in your rib cage, fear overcoming you but there was a thrilling undercurrent of excitement that was hard to ignore. Logan’s intense gaze held you captive, and the edge in his voice sent the tension crackling in the air between you.

“You didn’t think I’d notice?” he continued, a low chuckle escaping his lips, laced with a hint of danger. “A man owns about three good shirts and is bound to notice when one goes missing.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making your breath hitch again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve been watching me,” he stated, his voice dropping even lower. “Spying on me like some lovesick teenager. It’s cute, but it’s also… a little sick.” The intensity in his gaze softened slightly, a flicker of something deeper behind his fierce exterior.

You swallowed hard, the words caught in your throat. “I—”

“Save it,” he interrupted, his grip tightening around your jaw just enough to keep your attention focused on him. “Don't give me excuses. Tell me why.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. What could you possibly say that would explain the tangled web of emotions and desires that had led you here? His proximity was intoxicating, and the conflict between fear and yearning made your head spin.

“I... I just wanted to understand you,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hear you with the women you bring home... and I want that. ”

Logan's smile grows somehow even darker. "So ya' got all dressed up for me because you want me to fuck you like I do with the others? That right, sweetheart?"

The only thing you could do at this moment was give him an eager nod, the ache between your legs growing shamefully larger by the second.

“I’ll give you what you want kid', but you need to know something first.” He paused slightly, the air between you thick with tension.

“I’m the best at what I do, and I don’t do it very nicely.”

cliff hanger I know, but i'm such a slut for teasing.

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xlocalxpunkx · 9 months ago

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In The Woods Somewhere

Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings/ Tags: Swearing, smoking, smut to come

Lumberjack AU

Word Count: 8924

The flaming heat of the mid-summer afternoon sizzled down to tepid embers with the arrival of a pleasant sprinkling of rain. The light pitter-patter of rain on your windshield coupled with the slow, easy jazz that flowed out of the radio made for pleasant company on your drive out to the small shopping center in town. A cool wave of contentment washes over you, you relish it. Finally, you feel as though you’re in a place where the entire world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. Staring out onto the open road ahead of you, a faded white line divides the smooth tarmac surface. Evergreen trees stand proudly on either side of you, the heady scent of pine is thick in the air, amplified by the rain. A sad, sullen thought slinks through your mind.

Was there even a point to bearing witness to all these beautiful things if you had to see them alone?

Thoughts like these creep up on you sometimes. Getting out of a four-year relationship that had you twisted from the inside out will do that to a person. It took you well over a year to process. Countless hours of gentle parenting yourself and using every crappy, overly marketed self-help tool at your disposal to breathe, and mantra, and journal your way through everything. And it worked, partially at least.

Learning to live with yourself was a little harder than expected, but being out here helped. Perhaps it was because of the mountains. Weathered and different from how they once were- carved and indented by the hands of men… But still strong, still present. And maybe, you thought, you should extend the same grace to yourself. Acknowledge that things inside and around you have changed, but never underestimating the importance of the fact that you are still present. Present despite every setback, disappointment and broken heart- and that is no small feat.

You smile. Fuck yeah, emotional regulation. Just as a small blossom of hope sprouted in your chest, it was crushed by the heavy boot of your car engine sputtering, backfiring and then smoking profusely. No. Sweet, suffering Jesus, no. You were too far from the town to get a signal on your phone and were too unfamiliar with the surrounding area to know where the nearest tow company was. You supposed you could just walk to the grocery store you were heading to and ask someone there- but it was at least five miles and visibility was shit because of the rain.

You pull over and rest your head in your hands for a brief moment, recalling all the choices that led you here. You didn’t even have the luxury of blaming all of this on the impulsivity of a drunken night out, no. You sat, and thought, and researched about all of this. This came to you, bit by bit, with a clear mind. A rasp of wry laughter escapes your parted lips. At the angst of it all, the fucking absurdity.

“Alright.” You mutter to yourself, gathering quiet strength stored deep down and get out of the car. You pop the rain spattered hood of your car and assess the damage- the engine smokes, a great roaring heat hits you as soon as it’s given an escape from the confines of the car. “Shit.” Yeah, shit. You wouldn’t be able to fix this, not without some divine imparting of mechanical wisdom. You wait for a moment, collecting yourself.

Your silent prayer to the heavens is interrupted by the distant rumble of an engine. As the sound grows louder, you look up, hoping for a good Samaritan that could aid your current predicament. A red truck makes its way into your vision, an oasis in the desert of your despair. The pickup rolls to a stop, and your eyes move through the rain to see the figure stepping out.

He is a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered and rugged. The brown plaid of his shirt is muted by years of wear- muscles bulge under the fabric. His hair is a warm chestnut, framing his face perfectly. He’s a few feet away, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and what you took to be mild annoyance- as if this situation was an inconvenience to him. The silence he shrouded himself in was almost tactile. It fills his immediate surroundings with an unspoken reserve that suggested a man chained in solitude. As he approaches, brows furrowed and lips set in a solid line, you notice the shining hazel of his eyes- they’re soft. Surrounded by harsh lines and weighed down by his sullen expression, but soft, nonetheless.

“You alright?” The stranger enquires, eyebrows raising a hair in concern. He looks behind you, almost through you, and lays his sights on the wispy, darkened smoke rising from your engine.

“Yeah- I mean… No. Not really. Stupid fucking car just gave out on me.” You sigh out, exasperated.

He grunts and steps closer. “Want me to take a look?”

A smile graces your features at his offer, “Please. Yeah, go ahead. You know a lot about cars?” You sidestep the vehicle to give him access to your disaster of an engine.

“Some.” He responds, eyes downcast.

He surveys the scene with an air of practiced detachment, “Yeah. It’s fucked. I can tow it into town, if you want.” he offers, his tone carrying a hint of reluctance.

You manage a wry smile, relief flooding you. “That’d be great. Thanks. I couldn’t get a signal out here either so, uh, you’re kind of saving my ass.”

“I’m Logan.” he states plainly, not bothering to shake your hand. He keeps himself away, not allowing the hands that caused so much hurt and pain to taint you with their touch. An invisible border closes him off from you- maybe from everyone, you theorise. He closes the trunk with little regard and turns to you.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you.” You wipe your clammy palms on your pants, unsure of what to do. His head bows only a little, only for a moment. If his presence wasn’t so encapsulating, you’re sure you would’ve missed it.

He works with an efficient precision, unhooking your car from its spot and securing it to his truck. The heavy clink of the tow hitch falling into place was oddly reassuring, a small promise of resolution to come.

Logan moves to the passenger side of his truck and opens the door for you, extending his arm as a gesture for you to get in. You do so wordlessly, a tight smile flung his way as a measure of gratitude.

As you climb into his truck, the faint scent of blended tobacco and leather wafts its way into your nose. It provides you with an odd sense of comfort. You take in the interior- the brown seats are worn, the dashboard cluttered with pinecones and other forest finds. Odd, you think, but refrain from asking about it. Instead, you ask the only thing you could think of- it comes out sputtered and unkempt, “So, uh, have you lived here long?”

“A while.” His eyes don’t leave the road, his knuckles tighten slightly around the dark expanse of the steering wheel.

Am I annoying him? You think to yourself, but quickly shut it down remembering how he offered to help you. Perhaps this is just his nature, it fits with the gruff woodsman aesthetic he’s wrapped himself in.

“You don’t talk much, do you, Logan?” You peer over at him. Jesus fucking Christ this man is so beautiful. Maybe you’d be more annoyed by his shitty attitude if he wasn’t so goddamn pretty.

“Not if I can help it, angel.”

“Angel? Ah come on, Logan. Don’t tell me you’ve resorted to that because you’ve already forgotten my name.” You jest, a small ring of laughter coming from you.

There is the tiniest uptick of his lips, you note it. “Didn’t forget it.”

“So you say.” You smile at him once again, subconsciously willing him to look at you again. He does, but only for a moment. Just enough to indulge the butterflies inhabiting your belly. Logan drives with focus, intensity. You were sure he applied the same intent to everything else in his life.

The truck glides steadily along the winding road. The landscape remains breathtaking, even as you get closer to civilisation. The towering pines, strong and evergreen; the lake shimmering like a million sapphires, and the mountains looming majestically with peaks partially veiled by mist. You suck in a deep breath, letting the serenity of the outside make its way inside you. Logan is not blind to this; he checks on you periodically. It takes every fibre of his willpower to not look at you. He wants to drink you in, satiate himself on the divine radiance of your presence. So bright, so beautiful. He wouldn’t dare risk casting a shadow over that.

Your attempts to make conversation with the burly plaid-clad man feel like an exercise in persistence. “So… Is it a habit of yours come to the rescue of beautiful, stranded motorists?”

He lets out a non-committal grunt. You sigh, deflating into the seat slightly. He notes the pang he feels in his chest at disappointing you. He means to crush it under his heel, with the force and might of a tank, but he can’t seem to bring himself to. Logan shakes it off, reminding himself that he is, at his core, stone and adamantium, sharp edges and an impenetrable centre. The world breaks against him.

He glances at you briefly before focusing on the road, stealing seconds of you for himself. Logan supposes he could indulge you, just this once. “Not always. Just when it’s hard to ignore.”

“I have been told I light up a room. Maybe that same mechanism made me look like the world’s prettiest, most devastated road flare.”

Logan lets out a scoff, it’s half-hearted and something close to a show of amusement. The corners of his mouth ascend as he turns onto the road leading into town. You witness it, photograph it, and frame it in your mind.

The truck rumbles down the road as the mechanic shop comes into view. It was the kind of place you wouldn’t notice unless you sook it out. It is a dingy, slightly crooked building with a battered, sun-bleached sign that reads "Ricky’s Auto" just barely clinging on to the wall. A sad collection of vehicles lay scattered around the lot, most of them looking like they were long past saving.

You sigh deeply, eyeing your pathetic excuse of a car that’s still hitched to the back of Logan’s truck. This is not how I imagined my day going, you think to yourself. You had envisioned picking up some cherries from the greengrocer and making a pie, maybe getting some reading done with a hot cup of tea. But here you were, courtesy of Mr Sex on Legs, who so far had spoken about fifteen words to you.

As soon as Logan parks the car, he exits and moves around the vehicle in an imperceptibly swift motion and opens the door for you. You hop down from the slightly raised surface and give him an easy smile, coupled with a genuine, albeit slightly surprised, “Thank you.” You doubt he hears you though, because he’s already moving to unhitch your car. And, by God, you try not to stare, but it seems like the world’s most impossible task. Seeing the way his muscles moved under the lines of his plaid shirt makes your mouth water. With the same quiet efficiency as before, he unlatches the tether between the two vehicles.

Before you think too much about how incredibly strong he looks, a man in oil-stained overalls emerges from the garage. He has a crescent moon hairline and thin, wire framed glasses. Splotches of grease stain his fingers as well as the cloth clasped in his left hand. “Logan m’boy!” he calls out, slapping his rag down on a pile of neatly stacked tyres. “Haven’t seen you ‘round here in a goddamn minute.” The grey-haired man stands a few feet away from us, a half-smoked cigarette dangles from his lips. His blue overalls are stained from decades of oil changes and brake jobs. A canvas upon which he painted his years of experience.

“Been busy,” Logan mutters, his voice gruff as all hell, but you notice the faintest flicker of a smile tug at his lips.

The mechanic turns to you, putting his hands on his hips. “And who might you be, Miss?”

“Oh- I’m Y/N. My car decided today would be a good day to give out on me and, um, Logan here so generously offered me a tow.” You flash him a half-smile.

“He did, eh?” Ricky peers over his glasses to assess Logan, standing with his arms folded over his chest. Logan furrows his brows, a silent conversation occurring between the two men. You shift on your feet awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

Ricky shrugs his shoulders and walks over to the car. The bespeckled man leans over, scratching his chin. “Alright Miss Y/N. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.” He pops the hood and squints, practiced eyes examining the situation. “Yeah, looks like the radiator’s shot. I can fix it, but it’ll take a day or two for parts.”

A day or two? Fuck me, you think to yourself. You make an attempt to shirk your disappointment, but it is as evident as the light of day upon your face. “Right. Okay. I suppose if that’s the only way…”

Before you could dwell on it, Logan speaks up. “Ricky’s the best. He’ll get it done, angel.” Your eyes meet momentarily, sincerity evident behind his hazel irises. “If you need a ride or anything… I can, uh… I’m around.” He curses himself out mentally. Now why the fuck would I say that? He thinks, clenching his fists slightly.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, the butterflies in your stomach flutter wildly. Considering how he behaved like simply towing your car into town was a chore, you hadn’t expected an offer like this. “Uh, yeah. That’s really sweet of you, Logan, but I wouldn’t want to put you out…” you fiddle with the rings on your fingers, hoping he sees through your feigned polite declination.

Ricky, however, wasn’t about to let this moment slide. He interjects, leaning against your car. “Don’t be silly, Miss. ‘Course he’ll take you.” An air of finality surrounds his words.

Logan shoots him a look, jaw clenching in the most delicious way. This, however, just causes an even wider grin to spread across Ricky’s wrinkled features. “Young miss, you were headin’ into town, weren’t you? Logan here would be more than delighted to take you ‘round and bring you home after.”

You glance over to Logan, eyes wide, curious, pleading. He nods his head, albeit begrudgingly. You let of a smooth sigh of relief, thank God. After giving Ricky your details, you exit the well-loved repair shop to see Logan with his hands shoved deep into his jean pockets.

“C’mon then angel.” He rumbles, tilting his head in the direction of his truck. He opens the door for you once again and waits until you’re strapped up before he shuts it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound breaking the tension the tiniest bit. “So, I wanted to go to the grocery store to pick up some cherries. I was going to bake a pie tonight.”

He hums in response, eyes focused on the road. “You bake often?” It comes out gritted, restrained. Knuckles whiten around the worn steering wheel.

“When I can. I thought I’d bake as much as I could before the school year starts. I’m, uh- I’m starting work at Oak Haven High School in the fall.”

He nods slowly- soaking in the bright, melodious nature of your voice. He could listen to you talk about nothing forever, he thinks to himself. He wants to hear you laugh; he wants your smiles to come about because of him. He wants to hear you whimper under him while he- No. No. Can’t think about that, Logan scolds himself for allowing his mind to wander.

“You know I-” You pause for a moment, thinking about how to say this. He glances over as you stop speaking, brows raising a fraction of an inch, egging you on.

“Well… it’s just that you’ve been so kind to me, and I’d like to repay your favours.”

“Don’t need to, angel.”

“No, but I want to. I don’t know if you’re busy later but maybe you could come to mine for dinner? I was going to cook Chicken Adobo and uh, and the pie, obviously.” You smile, teeth flashing from under painted lips. And his heart catches in his chest. Every ounce of better judgement is silenced by the screaming of every cell in his body, telling him to say yes. It’s beyond desire, beyond want. It’s necessity. He must see you again.

“You don’t- no. That’s not necessary.”

“Aw c’mon, I can’t say the food will be anything to write home about, but I can promise some good company.” You bat your lashes at him and smile and for the first time in a long time, Logan feels weak.

“Alright.” He drawls out, the faintest whisper of a smile graces his face.

“Really?” You beam, all sunshine and warmth. It lights something up inside him, a fire he’s kept covered since he moved out here. He nods, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. It’s surprising to him, how easily he lost this battle of wills with you. And maybe, he thought, he should allow you to win again and again.

The drive into town is pleasant, less tense than before. You glance at Logan from the corner of your eye, mind reeling at the sight of the beautiful behemoth of a man to your right. He is clearly a man of few words, his stony exterior surely aids in his want for solitude. Every now and then, you’d catch him looking at you, infinitesimal moments that he took for himself. Neither of you comment on it.

“So… you and Ricky go way back?” you enquired finally, breaking the seemingly never-ending silence.

Logan shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes trained on the road. As if he knew that if he allowed himself to look at you properly, he’d never be able to look away. “Knew him from town. He’s good people.”

You nod, eagerly awaiting more from him. When he doesn’t give you anything else, you decide to press a little. “He seemed to enjoy teasing you back there.”

Logan huffs, something resembling a laugh escaping his perfect lips. “Ricky’s a pain in the ass, but he means well.”

That, right there—that tiny hint of humour hidden under his stony exterior, it makes you smile. “Seems like everyone in this town’s got a lot of… uh… personality.”

He glances at you, his gaze lingering just a second longer than before. “Guess so.”

Subtle as it may have been, there’s something a touch different about the way he gazes upon you now. A hairline fracture appears in the brick-and-mortar walls that surround him, letting the slightest sliver of something out, something real and tactile and intoxicating.

Strolling into the little greengrocers, you glance down at the shopping list in your hand. The air in the small space is fresh, produce is lined up in neat piles sprawling across the aisles. Logan is pushing the cart with squared shoulders, he’s tense. He glances moves past the fresh vegetables receiving a light misting from the sprinklers above. His hazel eyes scan the surroundings, as if he’s waiting for something- or someone to pop up.

“Are you always this tense when you go shopping?” you ask, a vain attempt to lighten the mood, raising an eyebrow at him as you stop in front of the baking section.

Logan looks over at you, his expression hard, unreadable. “What do you mean?”

“You know, some people find this relaxing,” you said, grabbing a bag of sugar and tossing it into the cart. “But you look like you’re being hunted for sport.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “I just like getting in and out. Not a fan of lingering.”

“Not a fan of lingering,” you repeat with a smirk, eyeing him as you reach for a small bottle of almond extract. “I guess I shouldn’t ask for your opinion on pie spices, then? Too much lingering involved.”

He gives you a slight shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “As long as it’s edible, I don’t have a strong opinion.”

“High praise, Logan,” you jest, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’ll be sure to aim for ‘edible’.”

Logan remains silent, giving you the sweet nothing you’d become slightly accustomed to. You could, however, see the tiniest bit of amusement flicker in his eyes. He isn’t exactly chatty, but there is something oddly comforting about his presence. He’s grounded, solid. Reminds you of the mountains- he smells like them, too. Fresh, earthy, safe.

As you reach the fruit aisle, you glance at the cherries, bright and shiny under the fluorescent lights. You grab a bag and hand it to him, watching as he weighs them in his large, calloused hands.

“Do you even like cherry pie?” you asked, sliding your hands into your back pockets as you lean against the cart.

He paused for a second, looking down at the cherries, then up at you. “Never had it.”

Your eyes widen in blatant disbelief, “You’ve never had cherry pie?”

Logan shakes his head, his expression still neutral, though you notice the faintest trace of amusement behind his eyes. “Nope.”

“Well, now I feel like I’m under immense pressure,” you said, mock serious. “I’m taking your cherry pie virginity, Logan. What if I mess it up?”

He raises an eyebrow, his voice teasing. “Didn’t you say somethin’ about aiming for edible?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Shut it.”

He shrugged again, his lips twitching into a near-smile. “Just holding you to your own standards, angel.”

“So, that’s how it’s going to be?” you shoot back, unable to keep the grin off your face. “Alright then, tough guy, let’s see if you can handle the next critical decision.” You gestured grandly to the dairy section. “Butter or margarine?”

Logan drinks you in, sizes you up, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly. “Butter. Always butter.”

You clap your hands together and sigh dreamily. “A man after my own heart.”

The gruff lumberjack feels his cheeks heating, he needs to look away from you- you’re too goddamn beautiful, even under the harsh fluorescent lights. He feels as if he’s going to combust, but he cannot bring himself to tear his gaze from you. So, he smiles. It’s bright and big and you catch a glimpse of his sharp canines.

The banter continues as you wander through the aisles, each small decision becoming a chance for you to tease him, and for Logan to surprise you with his dry, understated responses.

At one point, you reach for a carton of eggs, only for him to pluck it off the shelf before you can. “I’ve got it,” he said, placing it carefully in the cart.

You tilt your head, pretending to size him up. “You’re surprisingly helpful for someone who looks like they’d rather wrestle a bear than be in here.”

He lets out a low chuckle, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not that bad.”

You grin, leaning in a little. “Oh? You sure about that? Because the guy I met a few hours ago...” You raise your eyebrows and suck in a breath through your teeth.

Logan’s jaw clenches, there is no anger behind it though- more like he is deciding how much to give away. You decide to leave it alone, best not to press him, you thought as you see him shift, like he isn’t used to being called out.

“I guess you caught me on a rough morning,” he says finally, his voice quiet but sincere.

You soften at that, watching him for a second longer than you intended. There is something vulnerable in his honesty, and it throws you off guard. You want to watch him unravel next to you- you want to kiss the scars on his hands and shield him from the world.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you hum, your tone lighter again, “I, um, I didn’t mean to pry.”

Logan shook his head, dismissing it easily. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

You let the silence hang between you for a second before deciding to break it. “Well, in that case, I think you’ve earned the right to pick the ice cream.”

He glanced down at the freezer section in front of you, clearly aware of your attempt to steer things back to neutral territory. “Vanilla.”

You groaned, dramatically covering your face with your hand. “Vanilla? Really?”

Logan’ lips twitched again. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head as if you were gravely disappointed, “It’s good. Classic.”

“You seem surprised.” He adds, eyebrows raised in faux surprise.

“Yeah,” you reply, a concealed smile on your face. “I had you pegged as… like a… mint chocolate chip man.”

He smirked—a full-on, unmistakable smirk. “Mint chocolate chip.” Logan swirls the words around in his mouth He kisses his teeth and shakes his head, playing disappointed. “That’s… certainly something, angel.”

You throw your hands up in defeat. “What do you mean? Mint chocolate chip is a perfectly respectable flavour to enjoy!” He grunts in response, picking up the vanilla ice cream and dropping it into the little trolley.

As you make your way to the checkout, you can’t help but sneak glances- actually, scratch that... You cannot help but full-on stare at him, eyes trained to his pretty face or his rippling muscles the entire time- shamelessly. There is just something about the way he carries himself—strong and steady, but there’s also faint whisps of humor peeking through his tough exterior. It made you feel like you’d been graced with a glimpse of the real Logan.

And maybe, no… Definitely. You definitely like what you see.

The drive back to your house is quiet, as you anticipated. Not an awkward silence- more like the kind that settles in when two people are comfortable. Logan’s prized red truck rumbles steadily along the road, the low hum of the engine filling the gaps in conversation. You stare out the window, watching the trees blur into a mix of greens and browns as the slightly parted clouds give way to balmy rays of mild, yellow sunlight.

“This is me,” you state, a pointed finger directing him toward a small, cozy house nestled between the trees. You could already see your porch light flickering on, casting a warm, yellow glow over the front steps. As Logan slows to a stop, the tires crunching on gravel, you feel a little flutter of nervousness again. I should’ve mowed the goddamn lawn, you chastise yourself internally.

Logan put the truck in park, glancing around as if taking mental inventory of the place. You observe his hazel eyes sweeping over the porch, the old oak rocking chair in the corner, the hanging ferns swaying slightly in the breeze. He doesn’t say much, but you can tell he is taking it all in- just like he’d taken in the details of you back in the store. Quiet, observant.

“You moved into Sixty-Seven?” he enquires, his voice low, almost like he was talking to himself.

You blink, looking at him as you fumbled for your seatbelt. “Yeah, it was- uh- I just fell in love with it, y’know? It’s got this bay window out front, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful the view would be from there when it snowed.”

Logan gives you a small nod, his hands still resting on the steering wheel, gaze lingering on your abode. His heart clenches in his chest- this, all of this and you- so beautiful, so perfect. His eyes catch the flicker of the porch light, and for a second, you wonder what he is thinking. Surely nothing about how goddamn unkempt your lawn looks. Surely.

“You live nearby, Logan?” you ask quickly, a flailing attempt to fill the quiet.

“Yeah. Not far from here.” His voice is gruff, but there was something almost... tentative about it. Like he hadn’t really expected to say that out loud. “Just, uh, down the street actually.”

You hum and give him a smile, looking out the window again. “So… I guess, uh, I should get going?”

Logans lips twitch slightly, though his eyes remain fixed on your house. “Guess so.” He almost seems lost in thought. You couldn’t possibly fathom that he was lost in a fantasy, so long passed that he never thought he could reach it again. He imagines love flowing out of your house, music playing softly in the living room. His mind wanders to you: you who should not have such an immense hold on him this soon; you with your dazzling smile and bright eyes, with that sweet fuckin’ ass and those perfect tits- Logan blinks and suddenly the domestic fantasy is dragged away from him. The prospect of warmth like that is stolen and an icy reality washes over him. The reality that he is alone- and perhaps it was best for everyone if it stayed that way.

For a moment, neither of you move. You feel the weight of the day settle between you, meeting one another, the shared shopping trip, the easy banter, the way he had quietly helped with everything without making a fuss. And now here you are, sitting in his truck, only a few feet from your front door, and it feels like you are still... suspended. Like neither of you quite want the moment to end.

You catch him glancing at you again—just a quick, fleeting look, but enough for you to notice. He has this way of looking at you like he isn’t sure what to do with you, as if you are simultaneously the most innocent and dangerous thing in the world.

“I, uh, appreciate the help today,” you say finally, your voice resounding melodically in the quiet cab of the truck. “And the ride. I really do. Thank you, Logan.”

His fingers flex on the steering wheel, his knuckles brushing against the worn leather. “Not a big deal,” he mutters, his hazel eyes finding yours before looking away again. He finds it hard to breathe, even with the windows of the car open. You shine and radiate and fill up the space with your insurmountable beauty. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to look away.

Isn’t a big deal? You smile to yourself. Perhaps this is just his way? Saying something isn’t a big deal when he’d gone out of his way to make sure it was sorted out. Like when he stayed with you at the mechanic, or when he let you tease him about lingering in the grocery store without getting defensive. Every little thing about today had shown you more of who he was beneath the gruff exterior. And you want more.

“Well, it is to me,” you said softly, your fingers brushing the door handle as you hesitated. “So… thanks.”

He nods, still not looking at you directly, but you can feel the weight of what isn’t being said between you. You weren’t sure if it was the quiet of the woods surrounding you, or the warmth that lingered from the setting sun, but something about the moment felt... heavier. Like it wasn’t just about the grocery run or the ride home.

He shakes his head, as if clearing his mind from the thoughts he is having about you and moves to open your door. His tan boots crunch heavily on the gravel. The cool afternoon air engulfs around you, a chill runs up your spine. You turn back to face Logan, who was still here, leaning against the side of his truck. He watches you in that way of his—silent, steady, almost unreadable.

“So, um… I’ll see you tonight around seven?” you query, a genuine lightness in your tone.

Logan nods slowly, his gaze shifting between you and the house, like he was still sizing up the situation. “Yeah. You sure you don’t need help takin’ all that inside?”

“I’m a big girl, Logan. I think I can manage carrying two shopping bags twenty feet into my kitchen.” You jest, but your hands feel clammy, and your belly constricts at the thought of him coming into your absolute mess of a house. It horrifies you, boxes sprawled across the floor, clothes haphazardly strewn on the backs of your chairs, dishes piled in the sink left with the promise of fixing it up after your ‘quick run into town.’ Not exactly the best circumstances for a… what even was this? A date? A thank you dinner? God knows.

But before you could take another step, he calls out, his voice a little softer than before. “Angel. Thanks, uh, for the invite.”

You turn back to him, your heart doing cartwheels at the sound of that nickname in his mouth. You wanted to hear it over and over, every second of every day, sung out in pleasure and joy.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice softer than you intend. “Of course.”

He nods once, like that is all he needed to hear, before turning around and hopping into his car. As you watch him pull away, the truck’s rumbling engine cutting through the serenity of the street, you cannot shake the feeling that something is shifting. Inside you, perhaps inside him. It could be nothing. Or maybe it is everything.

You didn’t think that you’d live to see the apocalypse, yet here you were standing in what can only be described as a catastrophe-riddled kitchen. Bombs of flour litter your immediate vicinity. It’s on the counters, the floor, it even managed to get on the potted fern by the window it’s leaves dusted white like a winter’s morning. The air smells of sugar, sweet cherries and the buttery pie crust, which was about the only thing that was going well at this point.

Oh God. Why did I think this was a good idea?you think to yourself, contemplating why you didn’t just offer to invite him to dinner tomorrow.

Inviting Logan over for dinner seemed like such a simple, kind gesture at the time. A little thank you for all his help with the car, perhaps a little excuse to indulge in his presence once more. But now, standing in the middle of this culinary battlefield, your confidence is crumbling faster than the edges of your pie crust.

You flail around attempting to make your house seem presentable, shoving clothes into your laundry basket and wiping up the remnants of flour and sugar and pie crust that had somehow spawned all over your kitchen.

The clock on the wall ticks louder than usual, reminding you that time is running out. Fifteen minutes until he arrives. You glance at the mirror by the door and cringe slightly at the sight. Flour streaked your cheek, your hair is dishevelled, your teal apron is muddied from its time on the aforementioned culinary battlefield.

Your heart does a little flip, and you immediately scolded yourself for it. Why are you nervous? It’s just a friendly thank you dinner. A friendly thank-you dinner with a pretty, brooding, unimaginably sexy man. You suck in a few deep breaths before changing into something appropriate for dinner.

The setting of the table is interrupted by three sharp raps on your front door. You swing the door open, and there he is, standing on your porch in all his glory. His broad shoulders fill the doorway, a fresh red flannel shirt stretches taut across his defined chest, and his boots are coated in a fine layer of dust, a bottle of red wine is clasped in his right hand. For a moment, the world outside seems to fade into the background, and it was just the two of you, standing in this strange, unspoken space between strangers and something else… something more.

His hazel eyes meet yours, flicking quickly to the warmly lit living room behind you. You see a brief flash of ardour in his gaze before his face settles into its usual unreadable expression.

“Hey,” you sing out, a big smile gracing your features. You step aside and extend your arm in invitation. “Come on in.”

Logan nods and steps inside, moving slowly, as if he isn’t entirely sure if he belongs here. He glances around, taking in the varnished wooden floors, the cosy linen couches, the scent of sugar and cherry hanging in the air. His eyes settle on the antique record player in the corner of the living room, and for a second, you think you see his lips twitch, the ghost of a smile. It feels unfamiliar to him, but it was good, he thought. Something about this cosy space, with its cluttered charm and lingering warmth, made him feel less out of place than he expected.

He watches you move, your hands fidgeting as you finish setting the table. There was something... endearing about it, Logan thought. Something about the way you hold yourself that makes him feel warm inside. An almost indefinable quality that tells him that this is you, unabashed and unashamed of your nature. He yearns for that.

“Uh, I hope you’re hungry,” you said, your voice a shining as you gesture to the table. “I’ve got the chicken stewing, and the pie’s almost ready... sort of.”

Logan gives you a low grunt of approval, his eyes flicking to the pie cooling by the window. “Smells good,” he said, his voice rougher than usual, like he’s trying to find his footing in this strange, domestic moment.

You smile awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers. “It’s my first pie in, well, uh... years. Let’s just hope it tastes better than it looks.”

She’s nervous, Logan realizes, watching the way your delicate hands tremble slightly. He’s used to people being nervous around him, he’s an intimidating man, but most just avoid him altogether. But here you are, standing in front of him, your eyes bright with uncertainty, trying to make the best of this impromptu dinner.

He takes a seat at the small kitchen table, the polished chair creaking slightly under his weight. The space feels too small for him—too cozy, too... personal. But he notices the little things, the details that make it feel like a home: the way the warm porch light slants through the window, catching the edges of the remnants of flour on the counter, the faint hum of the adobo bubbling on the stove, the warmth that seemed to fill every corner of the room. It is a place he could never have imagined for himself, but in this moment, it feels like he’s supposed to be here.

You shuffle around the kitchen, stirring the stew, checking the pie. But you can feel his eyes on you- those sharp, quiet eyes that seem to view more than they let on. You weren’t sure if he’s judging your messy kitchen or just observing, but either way, the awareness of his gaze makes your heart race.

“So, do you cook often?” Logan enquires, breaking the silence, his voice low and steady.

You let out a breathy laugh, gesturing to the flour-covered counter. “I know it probably doesn’t look like it, but I promise I do.” You rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

He tilted his head slightly, a hint of playfulness flickering in his eyes. “No, it- uh- it smells good, angel. Want me to open the wine?”

You chuckle, nodding your head. “Yeah, let me- I’ll just get some glasses. Thank you for this, by the way. I thought I was supposed to be making it up to you for everything you did, and here you go adding to the list.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Logan said, leaning back in the chair, arms crossed. He didn’t smile, but there was a softness in his tone that surprised you.

You dished out the stew, setting a bowl in front of him. Your fingers brushed his as you passed the bowl, and the warmth of his skin sent a tiny spark up your arm, more surprising than you wanted to admit. He retracts his hand, causing the stew to drip down from the side of the bowl, “Shit. Sorry.” He quickly grabs the cloth napkin that the cutlery was laid down upon and wipes up the stray droplets.

As you sit across from him, you try to relax, but every time you look up, there Logan is, sitting at your kitchen table like he belonged there, like this wasn’t the most surreal thing that had happened since you moved here. He eats in silence, his movements slow and deliberate, the way someone eats when they’ve learned to savour every bite. Why does he have to be so... solid? you wonder, watching him out of the corner of your eye. There is something grounding about him, something steady. Even though he barely said a word, his presence filled the room, making it feel smaller, warmer.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “what do you do when you’re not out chopping trees? Any hobbies besides... lumberjacking?”

Logan raises an eyebrow, his mouth morphing into some kind of reserved smirk. “I’m not that interesting.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, leaning forward slightly. “There has to be something.”

He shrugs, honey eyes drifting to the window. “Just take care of the land. Fix things up. Keeps me busy. I’m up on Lot 48- it’s lakeside. I, uh, started redoing the house when I moved out here.”

You nod, picturing him out in the woods, working with his hands, surrounded by nothing but the sound of nature. It was such a different life from anything you knew, and you couldn’t help but wonder what had led him to choose that kind of isolation.

“Must get lonely,” you coo softly, not quite sure why the words slip out.

Logan’s jaw tightens slightly, his gaze still fixed on the window. “Sometimes. But it’s better that way.”

The silence that follows is heavier this time, charged with something unspoken. You want to ask more, to understand why he kept himself so closed off, but before you could say anything, Logan smiles at you. His eyes are soft, mellow pools of gold that you want to lose yourself in. The smile catches him by surprise, but he can’t help it- you’re so fucking gorgeous, and you put so much effort into this meal. Things of beauty, such as this, seem foreign to Logan.

The rest of the meal passes in quiet conversation, the tension from earlier slowly melting into something softer. You serve the cherry pie and wait in eager anticipation for his feedback. Logan takes his first bite, fork passing through his soft, pink lips. His eyes widen slightly, just enough for you to catch the flicker of approval. He lets out the most delicious low moan.

“This is so fucking good,” he said, his voice rough, sincere.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the wine or the steaming hot cherry pie. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you’d done something right. Truly right. Completely right.

“Really?”

He lets out a muffled “Mhm.” Mouth still stuffed with vanilla ice cream and cherry pie. “I, uh… I don’t usually have a sweet tooth- but you’re- uh, this is incredible, angel.”

"That's mighty high praise, Logan. Would you go so far as to say it's edible?"

A laugh rings out from him, more joyful than a thousand church bells, sweeter than all the combs of honey the world has to offer. "Fuck yeah."

The scrape of chairs across the floor feels almost too loud, punctuating the end of dinner with a finality that leaves your heart beating just a touch faster. As you stack the plates and glance toward Logan, the room feels smaller somehow, heavy with the weight of something unsaid, something hanging in the air between the two of you. Nobody comments on it, neither of you have the courage to.

Logan so moves easily, like he’d done this a thousand times before, confident in every movement, every stride. Taking the plates from your hands without so much as a word, his fingers brush yours again, but he doesn’t flinch away from it this time. Even though it’s just for a second, it sends a spark of electricity up your arm—a reminder of the tension that has been simmering since he came into your house.

“I’ll take care of this,” he murmurs, already heading to the sink. His voice is low, gruff as always, but there’s something softer beneath it tonight. He rolls up his sleeves, exposing his forearms—strong, tanned, with just the right amount of scruff. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping. You can’t help but stare, and apparently, you aren’t as subtle about it as you think because he catches you looking and raises an eyebrow.

“You alright over there?” he asks, a teasing edge to his tone.

“Fine,” you say, too quickly, reaching for a towel. “Just... uh, trying to figure out how you’ve made washing dishes look like some kind of art form.”

“That all?” He chuckles, the low rumble of his voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Yeah, I just… I can’t remember the last time someone did the dishes for me.”

“Don’t be too impressed. I can clean up after myself.” He winks, leaning over the sink.

You dry the dishes after he rinses them, the comfortable silence between you filled only by the clinking of plates and the soft hum of the evening beyond the window. Every now and then, you catch him sneaking a glance your way, and each time, it makes your pulse quicken just a little. There’s something brewing here, something that neither of you seem ready to name just yet.

When the last dish is dried and put away, Logan leans back against the counter, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture you weren’t sure you’d ever see, a sign of nervousness. “Mind if I step outside? Thought I’d smoke a cigar.”

You blink, not half surprised. The idea of him standing on the porch with a cigar seems... right. You nod, suddenly feeling like you need fresh air yourself. “Sure, uh, I’ll come with you.”

The evening air is cool, a light breeze carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. The sky is splattered with deep purples and oranges, with the final rays of sunlight slowly dipping behind the mountains, casting a beautiful golden glow over everything. The porch creaks slightly underfoot as you both step outside, the world around you settling into a soft hush.

Logan reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a thick Cuban cigar, lighting it with slow, practiced ease. The flare of the lighter illuminates his face for a brief moment, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the hazel of his eyes that caught the fading light just right. He takes a slow drag, the scent of tobacco mixing with the pine-scented air. You’re drunk on him. Gulping down every facet of the strong man available to you.

You lean against the railing, pretending to watch the sunset but feel the weight of his gaze on you, that unspoken tension still simmering. “Hey Logan?” you enquire, breaking the quiet, “what’s with all the pinecones on your dashboard?”

He lets out a low chuckle, glancing sideways at you, cigar puffing between his lips. “Noticed that, did you?”

“Hard not to,” you reply, teasing. “You’ve got a whole collection. I thought maybe you were some kind of weird tree fruit enthusiast.”

“Not quite,” he quips, tapping the ash from his cigar. “Those... well, they’re gifts.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Gifts?”

“Yeah.” He shifts slightly, looking a little embarrassed, which only made you more curious. “From my cat.”

Your eyes widen, a surprised laugh bubbling up before you can stop it. “Your cat brings you pinecones?”

He nods, taking another slow drag of his cigar. “She’s a stray I took in. Started bringin’ me little ‘presents’—pinecones, rocks, she found a… a, uh, whole stem of Harebells once. Couldn’t bring myself to throw them out, so... they ended up on the dash.”

“That’s... fucking adorable,” you said, biting back a grin. “You’re a big softie underneath everything, aren’t you, Logan?”

He gives you a half-smile, his hazel eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. “Guess I’m a bit sentimental.”

You tilt your head, looking at him in a new light, a softer light. “Sentimental, huh? Never would’ve guessed that about you.”

He shrugs, blowing out another stream of smoke, his gaze flicking back toward the mountains. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, angel.”

The way he says your name—soft, low, with just a touch of something deeper—sends a shiver down your spine. You turned slightly, leaning against the railing, your arm brushing his as you did. “So dramatic, Logan. Maybe you should start filling in the gaps, then.”

Logan looks down at you, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. The air between you feels charged, the fading sunlight casting great, sweeping shadows across his face, making everything feel more intimate, more immediate. For a moment, you are sure he is going to say something—something important—but then he just smiles, that quiet, secretive smile that makes you wonder what exactly is going on inside his head.

“You really wanna know?”

You nod, biting your lip. “I do.”

For a moment, the world seems to narrow to just the two of you, the fading light, the soft breeze, and the shared space on that old porch. You don’t say anything else, and neither of you move away from the other. Instead, you simply stand there, side by side, feeling the tension thrum between you like something alive, waiting to be acknowledged.

And then, in a quiet voice that is almost drowned out by the sound of the crickets, Logan whispers, “I like this. Being here.” With you, he omits.

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat as you turn to look at him. He isn’t smiling, not exactly, but there is something softer in his expression, something that makes your chest feel too tight, your thoughts too scattered.

“I like it too.” you grin, not trusting yourself to say more.

He doesn’t reply, he just nods slightly, taking one last drag from his cigar before putting it out against the heel of his shoe, a practiced movement. And even though he doesn’t say anything else, the way he looks at you in that moment- his eyes dark and warm, his posture more relaxed than before but still stony- says everything you need to hear. And it scares him. It scares the fuck out of him. The whole reason he came out here was to get away from people- if no one knew him and no one wanted to know him, then there was absolutely no chance of people getting hurt because of him. But here you were, fresh faced and pure, weaseling your way into the stone walls he’d built up over so many years.

“I should, uh, I should get goin’, angel.” He sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets, closing the solid barrier between you and him.

“Oh,” The word comes out involuntarily, sadness lacing the singular syllable. “No, yeah. Of course. It’s getting late.”

He clears his throat, stepping down the stairs one by one, “Thank you, again, for dinner. It was really good. Don’t put yourself down so much.”

You chuckle, nodding at his praise. You let it drip down you and warm your entire body. It feels good. The moonlight casts a pale glow over him, illuminating his features and encasing him in an angelic glow. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. You don’t want him to go, you want him to stay and light a fire for the two of you, you want him to sit and talk more about his cat and his house and everything else he’d be willing to tell you.

“I left my number on that notepad in your kitchen. Call me if you need somethin’ angel. I’m sure I’ll- uh- I’ll see you around.”

You wave him off as his headlights illuminate the road leading away from your house. As soon as he’s in the confines of his car, and far enough away for you not to hear- he lets out a long, “Fuck!” And another, and one more for good measure. He runs a hand through his hair, a maelstrom of emotions swirl through his chest. He shouldn’t feel this much for someone, not this soon, anyways. But it is the most intoxicating feeling in the world, being near you gives him a high people could only dream of; his head is a mess- his heart more so.

For now, Logan only knows two things for certain: that he absolutely should not see you again, and that he 100% would be seeing you again.

Part 2 >>>

Hi hi! So this is part one to my Lumberjack!Logan series. It's going to be a bit of a slow burn, but please let me know what you think of the story so far!

xoxo, Viv

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #james howlett #james logan howlett #logan howlett #wolverine x you #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine imagine

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xlocalxpunkx · 9 months ago

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A lot of adulthood is shouting “AUGH MY LAUNDRY” hours after you put it in the washer/dryer and running to go fetch it

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xlocalxpunkx · 10 months ago

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I’m Your Man, 18+

Logan Howlett x Mutant!AFAB! Reader

Warnings: Angsty, mentions of abuse, established relationship, toxic! Cheater! Logan, crying, breaking up, death, mentions old man! Logan, sexual themes, 18+, no pronouns used but you do have his kid so afab, trust the process pls

Summary: Logan is wallowing as he ages about his regretful relationship with you. He begs you to take him back after years have passed.

Inspo: I’m Your Man- Lucas Silveira

If you want a lover, I'll do anything you ask me to

It all started gradually. Your relationship with Logan was odd when you first met him. He was a cage fighter. You attended those fights with your abusive ex. The nights usually ended badly, your ex never seeming to want to bid on Logan’s behalf despite his reputation. The night they had lost their bet after almost 10 days in a row, they had turned their anger on you. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the last. Logan had stepped in, and almost killed them. He couldn’t stand seeing such a darling thing like you get beat on for no fucking reason. From then on, you were inseparable. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, so Logan took you with him.

And if you want another kind of love, I'll wear a mask for you

Logan didn’t want a relationship with you. You were his friend; compassionate, loving, doting. He could hear your heart beat race when you were near him. He could smell you when your blood soared downward. He couldn’t resist the temptation though. Your hands snaked through his hair, drunk from the bar he was fighting at that night. The heated kiss you shared changed everything. You were embarrassed about it the next day, but Logan brushed it off. He didn’t want to ruin what you two had, or draw you into his hellscape life.

If you want a partner, take my hand

The day Logan asked you to be his, you practically screamed in excitement. You threw your arms around his neck, pressing kisses all over his face. He chuckled, holding you against him. Your scent calmed him down. He would hold you forever if he could. You were his, he was yours. He would show it every time you were out. Holding your hand, your waist, whatever he could touch on you. Almost as if he was making sure you were real, despite being right in front of him. You knew his mutation, you had no fear of him. You were a mutant too, after all. Not as equipped as him, but you could make plants grow. It added literal life to your life. It was calming for you.

Or if you want to strike me down in anger, here I stand

Months and months together, Logan’s demeanor changed. He was loving one moment, vicious the next. You had intimate moments with him, vulnerable ones. Each time he opened up to you, each time you got a little closer to the enigma of Logan Howlett, he pushed you away. Screaming, snappy remarks, taking others and making you wait outside a motel room you shared in the cold. You listened to every minute of it, wondering what you did wrong to deserve this. You’d grow flowers in the dirt outside, twisting their petals and asking yourself why. Everything he could do to push you away, he did.

I'm your man

The day he found you crying in the bathroom because of him, he knew he needed to stop. Something in him wouldn’t let him though. He screamed at you, telling you that you were worthless. That you were the worst thing to ever happen to him. The opposite was true, but Logan didn’t want you to know that he’d do anything for you. That with one word, he’d wipe out all of humanity and the mutants for you. That night, you walked out that door, never wanting to see Logan ever again. His handsome face, his broad shoulders, his defined torso. Everything about him disgusted you.

If you want a boxer, I will step into the ring for you

Logan threw himself into the fights after that. He didn’t care. After you left, he had absolutely nothing. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t die. Sometimes he’d throw a fight, just to feel pain, and it didn’t do anything but reveal his abilities and make him skip to the next town. That was where he found Rogue. That was when he ended up at the mansion.

And if you want a doctor, I'll examine every inch of you

Charles had brought in a patient after a rough mission. You were battered, injured and bloody from a fight with human mutant-exterminators. They had stalked you, figured out you were just a ‘tree-hugger’ but when they tried to attack you, a rage you hid for so long released itself. You killed all of them. Every single one. They kept coming, and coming, yet you drove them back. When Logan heard Jean talking about a patient, who sounded suspiciously like you, he asked if he could check in on you. He only wanted to confirm his curiosity, not telling the rest of them what his thoughts were. Charles knew. He only hoped you would be okay to see him, hoping you could help the Wolverine more than he could.

If you want a driver, climb inside

You felt claustrophobic in the mansion. He was there when you woke up. He was always there. Wandering around the mansion, you knew he was only 15 feet behind you. Surrounded by people worshipping the ground your now ex walked on. He remained a stand-offish asshole to everyone, saving a snide remark for Scott every now and then. He was brisker than usual, angrier. You wouldn’t talk to him. That was, until you had a panic attack at 2 A.M. You were hyperventilating, on the verge of collapse. Logan had heard it, and came to your rescue. You found yourself clinging to his broad frame, crying into his tank top. You were sobbing and shaking. He offered to take you for a drive, roll the windows down and let you get some fresh air. You felt at peace in his familiar truck. You almost forgot everything he did to you. A low, “I’m sorry… for everything, love.” whispered into the wind. You gave no response.

Or if you want to take me for a ride, you know you can, 'cause I'm your man

The two of you bonded over the next year at the mansion. Logan made every move he could to make up what he did to you. He brought you flower seeds, your favorites, for you to grow. He made you food. He comforted you after your nightmares and calmed you down when your anxiety got the best of you. A sweet moment, the two of you alone in the common room at midnight after another bout of nightmares between you both. Hand in hand, a slow moving love. Logan was the best you ever had, and still is. The gentle kisses, the soft grips, you truly thought he had changed.

Ah, the moons too bright, the chains too tight

Logan didn’t know what it was about committing to you that made him so scared. He didn’t want to put a label on what you had. He shouldn’t have done it. He really shouldn’t have. When you walked in on him kissing Jean, you didn’t know why you didn’t expect it to happen. He had done this before. You slapped him, screamed at him like you never had the courage to before. You left the mansion, going back out on your own. Charles refused to locate you, to tell Logan you were safe. You were fine, especially without him.

The beast won't go to sleep

Logan couldn’t sleep after you left. He laid awake in the bed he once shared with you. Regret and sorrow filled his body, shame filled his soul. He didn’t know why he was like this. He refused to touch another woman after that. He wanted you, only you. Being celibate was easy enough. Most women don’t like being compared to someone outright to their face. He was deliberately an asshole, even to Jean.

I've been running through these promises to you, that I made and could not keep

He looked back on every promise he made you. Every ‘I’ll get better’, ‘I won’t do it again, yet he continued to do it. Only once you left, did he seem to realize what you meant to him. You stayed for years, despite his behavior. You took him back once, but he knows you would never take him back again. Maybe if he was dying, but he wasn’t dying anytime soon. He missed you; your smile, your smell, your hair. Fuck, he missed everything about you.

Ah, but a man never got a woman back, not by begging on his knees

As Logan aged, his regenerative abilities wearing off, he yearned to have you by his side. He wanted love. The true, pure love you had already showed him, but he was too young and naive to take. He wanted nothing more than to find you, to live out the rest of his life with you. To have you in the mornings, nights, and afternoons. To sleep by your side, to eat by your side, to be next to you. All he could think about was you.

I'd crawl to you, baby, and I'd fall at your feet

While he was doing his job as a chauffeur, Logan thought he caught a glimpse of you. Your back turned to him, sitting at a table by yourself. You were drinking coffee, playing with the petals of a singular flower. He slammed on his brakes. Luckily, he didn’t have a passenger. He pulled over into a parking lot. Quickly, he climbed out of the vehicle. A wicked grin spread across his features with every step he took towards you. You barely looked any different. A few lines around your eyes and mouth, showing you had aged just as he had. He tentatively took a few more steps towards you, gently asking, “Is this seat taken?”.

You were taken aback by the familiar voice. You had almost forgotten the shivers it sent down your spine. “What’re you doing here?” You questioned. When you turned to him, expecting the once young man you had left, and saw the rugged, bearded old man in front of you, you gasped. He nodded, looking down, ashamed to see the hurt in your eyes still upon seeing him.

“Saw you, wanted to say hello. I understand if you don’t want me around. I’ll leave.” He stated, quietly. You could see the sadness in him, the loneliness. He had aged, aged well, but still aged. He seemed tired, the grooves in his face deep and eye bags prominent. You were both too old to care about what happened in this past anymore.

“Join me.” You commanded. You tapped the table for the seat across from you. Logan gave you a soft smile, gingerly taking the seat. The two of you caught up. He told you everything that happened from the minute you left the mansion to why he was here talking to you now. He told you about the adamantium poisoning, how he was aging. He told you about Charles. You told him about your life, everything about it and how you had missed him.

I'd howl at your beauty, like a dog in heat

You had given Logan your cell phone number in case he needed someone to talk to, to vent to. You reckoned he would never use it, but still, the offer stood. Logan kept playing in his head what to text, when to text. It had been a few weeks before you heard from him again. Your phone pinged,

‘You are still as beautiful as the day you left’

A choked smile spread across your face. Despite everything, Logan still gave you butterflies. He could make you blush, even as you got old. You took the initiative, texting him, asking him to meet up for drinks. Your heart spun, excited to him again.

And I'd claw at your heart, I'd tear at your sheets

The night you met for drinks, he clung to your side. Just like he used to do, hand on your waist, knees touching yours. When you got tipsy and one of your hands found its way into petting his hair, he couldn’t help the moan that let out at the physical contact. He hadn’t touched anyone since you left. He hasn’t cuddled or been loved. You suppressed giggles, before returning to his hair again. You took him to your home as midnight drew closer. With promises of a comfy couch to crash on and breakfast in the morning, Logan couldn’t refuse the offer. Somehow, someway, you ended up in bed together. Whether it was drunk or true intentions, you both enjoyed yourself more than you have in years.

I'd say please, please, 'cause I'm your man

When you awoke, you were curled up into the large man’s side. Head on his chest, you listened to his soft snores. His arm wrapped around you, bringing you closer to him. You smiled, closing your eyes again. The next time you woke up, it was because of Logan twitching. A grunt. A snarl. You gently shook him awake. His eyes snapped open, claws unsheathing. He relaxed the minute he realized it was you, putting the claws away. He pulled you to him, pressing his lips to the top of your head. You buried your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist like his were your back. You felt hot, wet tears hit the top of your head.

“I’d do anything for you, anything, to keep you here.” He whispered. You didn’t respond.

And if you've got to sleep a moment on the road, I will steer for you

You let Logan drive you to his place, not far from yours. He was resting his arm against the open window, head lolling into his hand. He accidentally zoned out, almost falling asleep. You could see how tired he was. When you got there, no one else seemed to be there. He sat down on his couch. You sat next to him. He grabbed ahold of you, pulling you to him. He fell asleep again, holding you in his arms. Snores filled the room, luring you to sleep with him.

And if you want to work the street alone, I'll disappear for you

You woke up before him. Untangling from his arms, he must sleep deeper with his age now. You manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. You walked back to your house, questioning everything you were feeling about the man you had spent so many years hating and regretting. Logan woke up eventually, worry filling him when he noticed you weren’t with him anymore. He had to respect your wishes though, he left you alone. The worry filled him wouldn’t allow him to. He followed you, watching you. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it.

And if you want a father for your child

Logan continued to follow you for days on end. When he passed your house, seeing a vehicle he didn’t recognize, jealousy panted in his heart. A young boy walked out of your house. He was shocked, to say the least. He didn’t believe you liked younger men. You walked out a few minutes after him, smiling and laughing. You walked the young man to his car, even opening the door for him. You hugged him. Logan felt stupid, stupid for watching you, stupid for thinking he had a chance with a person like you. Logan almost drove off, but you spotted him before he could. He sighed, making his way out of his car. The way your face fell upon seeing him. The young man looked at Logan, then at you, then questioned who he was.

He walked up to the two of you. He could now clearly see the young man in front of him. He looked a lot like himself, actually; thick eyebrows, dark brown hair, honey hazel eyes. Yet, he had your nose, your smile. Realization dawned on Logan before you could get the words out.

“Son, this is… well, this is Logan.” You stuttered out. Your son’s eyes widened. He nodded, sticking his hand out to shake the larger man’s hand. Logan grasped it, shaking it firmly.

“Nice to meet you, kid.” Logan stated, a warm smile on his face. You glanced between the two, noting the tension in the air. You nodded to your son, giving him permission to leave. He got in his car, pulling out of your drive way. He waved goodbye to you and Logan, driving off.

“You never told me.” Logan said.

“It was years ago. I was pregnant when I left the mansion, I didn’t know it yet.” You responded, leaving it at that.

Or only want to walk with me a while, across the sand, well I'm your man

Logan didn’t know how to feel. He had a son. He could have had a family, something he yearned for his entire life but figured he could never have. You didn’t tell him when you were telling him about your life. Even with the confusion and disappointment, when you grabbed his hand, pulling him with you to walk in your neighborhood, he couldn’t help the smile that graced his features. The feeling of warmth in his heart was all he had to know that it didn’t matter you kept it from him. He’d build a relationship with his son, with you, with his family. He’d introduce you to Laura. He would do anything to grow old with you. He wanted a future with you, for as long as he could live. He didn’t know when the adamantium poison would take him, but he knew he would let you be by his side the entire time. As long as you would have him, he’d be your man.

A/N: listened to this song and couldn’t help myself, please behead me

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #deadpool 3 #hugh jackman #deadpool #wolverine #the worst logan #logan x reader #logan howlett smut #xmen #x men 97 #x men comics #x men movies #x men origins: wolverine #Spotify #x reader

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xlocalxpunkx · 10 months ago

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Something Borrowed

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader x Wade Wilson SMUT

Warnings: Smut, Threesome, jealous! Logan, oral (masc and fem receiving), fingering, soft! Wade, aftercare, mildly rough sex, established relationship with Logan, choking, claiming, creampie, PinV, praise k!nk,

Summary: Wade teasingly flirts with you all the time, knowing how jealous Logan gets. You suggest sharing to your boyfriend and he doesn’t like it but he knows making Wade watch while he gets nothing will make him happy. After one more comment from Wade, he decides to show him exactly what you need.

“No fucking way.” Logan growled. You had only brought up adding Wade for a night to get him to stop flirting with you.

“But Lo, it might make Wade chill out with hitting on me! He only does it because you get so riled up over it.” You rolled your eyes. Logan’s large hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“That’s because you’re mine, and mine alone.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Heat pooled in your stomach. You loved being his.

———————————✨———————————

You had went to Logan and Wade’s shared apartment for dinner. Wade had invited you over with the promise of making your favorite meal. The two were already bickering; who is cutting what, what temperature the oven has to be on, what movie to watch while eating. It never seemed to end between the two. You giggled when Wade tossed a piece of food at you like a Hibachi chef, catching it gracefully in your mouth. You were sitting at the stool next to counter.

“See, I can take way better care of you than this old man,” he snickered, “I could treat you right.” Logan’s head snapped to the side, glaring at the scarred man beside him. Your eyes widened, knowing Logan had a sore spot for the age difference between you too. He had mentioned at one point that somebody else might be able to treat you better than him, but you had reassured him that you didn’t want anyone else.

“Is that so? I can treat my girl right or else she wouldn’t be with me still.” Logan scoffed.

“Prove it, old man.” Wade had retorted. You were slightly scared, fearing a fight might break out between the two. Yet, Logan’s next move surprised you. He walked directly past Wade, behind the counter, and made a beeline towards you. He grabbed you by the throat and pulled you to him, kissing you deeply and feverishly. Your eyes closed. His grip on your throat remained firm, fingers digging in to the arteries on each side, cutting off your blood supply. The loss of blood hitting your head made you dizzy. Your hand grasped his wrist, lightly tapping twice. He released your throat, using his hand to cup your face instead.

The kiss remained hot and heavy, deeper by the second. Logan’s tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You allowed it, letting Logan slip his tongue against yours. You moaned into the kiss, heat building in your panties. The session lasted another few minutes, until Logan pulled back. Breathing heavy, your eyes opened and looked to see Wade staring in awe. He had a very obvious erection underneath his sweatpants.

“See, just a kiss and I had her moaning.” Logan smirked. Wade shook his head no with an eyebrow quirked at you.

“A kiss is nothing,” Wade said mischievously, “show me something real and I’ll believe that you’d be better for her than I would.” Logan’s growl filled your ears. Logan turned to you, silently asking permission to do something you couldn’t name. You nodded. He quickly picked you up by the back of your thighs, placing you on the counter. He moved between them, pressing his hard on against your clothed cunt.

He kissed you again, gripping your soft hips with his hands. He rubbed small circles into your hips, massaging them. He slipped his fingers into the waist line of your jeans, undoing the button and gently starting to pull them down. He was giving you time to stop him. You used your own hands to start pushing them off faster.

Wade was fighting off the urge to touch himself, pretending to be unamused watching the scene before him unfold. Once your jeans were off, Logan was quick to do the same with your shirt, even if it meant breaking the kiss for a second. You felt a little embarrassed, both men staring at you hungry. Logan pawed at your bra-clad breasts. He began kissing up your neck, sucking marks into it here and there. One of your arms wrapped around his shoulders, the other snaking its way up into his hair. You let a small moan at a harsher nip against your neck. He reached around you, unclamping your bra. You let it fall to the kitchen floor.

“Mine.” He growled against your lips, eyes open, side-eyeing Wade. You flushed red. Wade’s eyes were wide, pupils blown with lust. You felt exposed, but happy to be. Logan’s fingers traced the edge of your panties, hooking them with his index fingers and gently pulling them down. You lifted your hips, bracing yourself against the counter. He took them off of you. Completely bare to the eyes of both men, you began to cover yourself slightly, trying to be nonchalant about it. Crossing your arms over your stomach. Logan’s hands grasped them, pulling them away from your body.

Logan tsked, stating, “To beautiful to hide that perfect body, Angel.” You glanced between the two men, Wade nodding in agreement. Wade reached a hand out to touch your thigh, but it was quickly smacked away by Logan.

“No touching, mine.” Logan snarled, lip curling. His animalistic side was showing, wanting to claim you as his and his alone to the aggressor next to you. Wade made a face and put his hands up in surrender, chuckling lightly. You reached for Logan’s jeans, moving to unbutton them. He allowed you, taking off his tank top. He was almost in full glory, the only thing left on was his boxers. The prominent bulge in them neither you nor Wade could help but stare at.

Logan got down on his knees, using his hands to move your thighs apart and over his shoulders. Your pussy glistened from the dim kitchen light. Logan looked up at you; his breath hitting your wetness made you shiver. You nodded, and his head dived between your legs. Lapping at your heat, his tongue finding its way against your clit. You moaned, fingers flying into his hair. You gripped his hair, pulling his head closer to your cunt. Your head lolled back, eyes squeezing shut. He was eating you out like a man starved. Like he had never tasted anything better in his entire life.

“ ‘s so sweet, sugar. Love this pussy,” he groaned against your clit. The vibrations of his low voice sent you moaning. His tongue found your entrance, licking it gently before plunging it in. The grip you had on his hair tightened. You opened your eyes, glancing at Wade to see he was rubbing himself through the fabric of his pants, leaning against the counter with one arm.

“Lo.. oh my fuck!” You moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion of one of his thick fingers, eyes rapidly closing. His other hand gripped your thigh next to his head. He lapped at your clit, pumping his finger in and out of you. He easily slipped a second finger in. Your pussy clenched around them, stretching as he curled them against your g-spot. He continued his actions, the heat building inside you. Your heels pressed against his back, close to an orgasm. He sucked on your clit. You felt like you were going to break any second now. Your moans sounded throughout the apartment. You knew Logan wanted Wade to see just how good he made you feel, so you let everything out.

A whine made you open your eyes, it didn’t sound like Logan. Wade had slipped his sweatpants just underneath his cock, now fisting it. It was big, smaller than Logan’s but still big; red, big, and dripping with precum. The image tipped your orgasm over the edge, letting it crash through you. Rippling waves of pleasure left your brain buzzed, moaning and cumming against Logan’s mouth. Your thighs tightened against his head, head thrown back, as his tongue still held against your clit, drawing you through your orgasm.

“Taste so good, pretty girl.” Logan mumbled, pulling away from your dripping cunt. He stood up, taking in your disheveled appearance. You sat there panting, watching Logan eye you. He looked to Wade, realizing Wade was touching himself to you. A devilish grin crossed Logan’s features. He turned back to you.

“You wanna give him the best porno he’s ever seen, angel?” Logan asked you. You nodded, a seductive grin lacing your features.

“Like that wasn’t hot enough?” Wade groaned, still fisting his cock. Your hands found Logan’s boxers, gently digging into the hem and pulling them down around his ankles. He stepped out of them, close to your awaiting figure. His member sprang free; juicy, delicious and leaking. Your hand immediately wrapped around it causing Logan to hiss at the contact. You slowly pumped him, letting drool pool in your mouth at the sight of his erection. You spat on your other hand and draped it around the parts of Logan’s cock you couldn’t reach. Your spit acted as a lubricant for his thick cock, smearing it along the entire length.

Wade’s groan interrupted your thoughts, looking at him. His eyes were on your hands where they met Logan’s cock, brows furrowed with concentration. You glanced up at Logan through hooded eyes, pumping him with new vigor, determined to give the merc with a mouth a good show.

You leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his tip before taking him into your mouth. Only with both hands and your mouth could you touch every part of his dick.

You worked your mouth against him, hollowing your cheeks. His large hand wrapped into your hair, gripping your roots. He pushed your head further down, making you take more of his length. Your eyes watered as you gagged. He thrusted into your mouth repeatedly. Drool started seeping out of the corners of your lips, gagging repeatedly every time his cock hit the back of your throat. You braced your hands against his thighs, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He made eye contact with you. His brow furrowed in concentration, he pulled you off for a second letting you catch your breath before plunging his cock back into your open mouth.

Logan let out a low growl, thrusting into your mouth. Nose brushing the coarse hair at his base, you gagged around him. You could tell he was getting close by the twitch of his dick in your mouth, his hips stuttering every few movements he did. You watched Logan’s expressions as he brought himself closer to his end with your mouth. Spit dribbled down your chin. With a few more quick, harsh thrusts against your mouth, you felt Logan’s hot, thick cum pool in your mouth and throat.

“Show.” He growled, pulling you off him by your hair. You stuck your tongue out for him, and he nodded towards Wade. Logan turned your head. You wereooking at Wade with doe eyes, feigning innocence as you showed him the cum in your mouth. He let out a low groan at the sight, his cock twitching in his hand. You made a show of closing your mouth and swallowing all of what Logan gave you.

“Good girl…” Wade groaned. Logan’s eyes snapped to Wade’s face at his words. A devilish smirk crossed Logan’s face. Your hands flew to up to your hair, the grip Logan had on it pulling you upward to stand. His hand left your hair once you were fully stood up.

You stood before the two men, flush underneath their heavy gazes. You glanced to Logan, then to Wade. Wade reached for you again. His warm hand landed on your hip; you looked to Logan. He nodded at you. This was happening. Logan was sharing you with Wade.

“Oh boy, he’s letting me touch you..” Wade giggled in your ear. You chuckled, a grin spreading across your face. Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Still mine.” He stated, making a grab for your shoulder. Wade moved you in front of him, his hard-on pressed against your back. Logan missed your shoulder, grasping through the air. He let out a growl, low and steady.

“He’s gonna hurt meee..” whined Wade. The possessive glare that landed on you sent tingles through your body. He stalked towards you, making you sandwiched between the two men. You felt Wade kick off his sweatpants. Logan’s regrowing erection pressed into your stomach, Wade’s into your back. Heat seeped from your cunt, slicking your thighs. You pressed them together to try to relieve the growing pressure both the men were giving you.

Once he realized that Logan wasn’t going to attack him, Wade began to pepper kisses along the back of your neck and shoulders. Logan cupped your face, kissing you deeply. Wade’s hands explored your body, gently gracing along it and stopping every so often to massage certain points. Your arms wrapped around Logan’s neck once again, pulling him deeper. Strong hands gripped your hips, twisting you around to face Wade.

“You’re gonna show this dumbass how good that little mouth is, while I fuck you, hm?” Logan growled against your neck, burying himself into the crook of it. It wasn’t so much of a question, rather than a demand based off his tone. He inhaled deeply, taking in your scent. You nodded, a small whine leaving your throat. Logan stepped back, pulling you with him. A forceful hand pressed against your upper back, making you bend over. Now eye-level with Wade’s leaking cock, you gingerly grabbed it. A moan left Wade’s mouth, leaning against the counter behind him.

You felt Logan’s hot tip run through your slick folds. He pressed into you without warning, completely bottoming out inside you. A yelp left you, but he sat still, letting you adjust around him. You pumped Wade’s cock in your hand, wrapping your lips around the tip. You were so focused on pleasing Wade that you almost forgot Logan was there until a searing pain spread across your ass. He spanked you.

The stretch of Logan’s cock was blissful. He began to rock back and forth inside you, filling every nook and cranny along your walls. With every thrust, you took Wade further into your mouth. Making eye contact with Wade was difficult with Logan’s harsh movements behind you, but Wade’s hand found your face. Cupping it gently, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. He was a lot gentler than you thought he would be.

Logan’s pace picked up. Skin slapping against skin and the wet squelching of your cunt ran through the apartment like a thunderstorm. Wade’s hand coaxed you to take his cock further into your mouth. You moaned around him when Logan hit your g-spot inside you. Wade watched you patiently, letting Logan do the work of pleasuring you, which in turn, made you pleasure him.

The tension inside you was building with every thrust from Logan, every soft whisper from Wade praising you on how good you were making him feel.

“Such a good girl, taking us both like this.” The deep reverb of Logan’s voice made all of your senses tingle with need, growing wetter by the second. A strong, calloused hand found its way against your clit. You couldn’t see him, facing Wade, but you could feel him lean over you. His cock hitting deeper inside you.

The coil in your stomach grew stronger with Logan’s touch on your clit. The sloppy mess of drool around Wade’s cock was getting worse with every thrust from Logan. You couldn’t help but moan around Wade’s dick. Each thrust against your g-spot, each gag around Wade, each circle of Logan’s rough fingers against your clit drew you closer to the edge.

“Such a good girl… fuck,” Wade groaned, gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail. He pushed your head, making you take his entire length in your throat. A long moan left his mouth as his orgasm hit him. Gagging and spluttering around his cock, you could feel his seed dripping out of the corners of his mouth.

“Show me, pretty girl.” Wade pulled back. You blinked, finding it hard to focus with Logan’s thrusting still continuing. You opened your mouth, showing Wade. With a particularly hard thrust, some of it spilled out. You closed your mouth to swallow it. You heard Logan tsk from behind you.

“Wasting his precious reward for you after doing so well?” Logan questioned. You hung your head down. A firm hand pressed your back further down. Logan’s cock reaching what felt impossibly deep. A string of moans and cusses left your mouth as he picked up the pace against your hips. Wade crouched to your level, cupping your face in his hands.

“Look at me, pretty baby.” Wade commanded. You forced your head up, making eye contact with him. His scarred face stared back. “That’s it baby, let go. Let us take care of you, sweet girl.” The words made the coil in your abdomen snap, orgasm rocking through you suddenly. Your walls clenched around Logan, pulling him deeper.

“Fuck,” Logan growled, hips stuttering in response to your orgasm. The sudden feeling off his cum filling you up made your thighs shake. He thrusted a few more times, slowly, dragging out both your orgasms.

Logan stilled, leaned down, next to the side of your face and whispered, “Atta girl. You’re still mine.” He gently patted your ass cheek twice before pulling out completely. Wade pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get her a bath, yeah?” Wade looked at Logan. Logan nodded, picking up your exhausted body easily and carrying you to the bathroom. Wade followed.

Wade grabbed a towel, gently cleaning off your face and in between your thighs. Logan started the hot water with you in his arms, dropping some of Wade’s ‘Bubblegum Scented Bubble Bath” in it. The soap suds began to fill the tub. You clung to Logan, silent but comfortable. He slowly put you into the tub, waiting for you to take your arms off of him. After you didn’t for a few seconds, he went to grab your arms and unwrap them.

When a loud whine left your mouth at the movement, Logan sighed. He climbed in behind you.

“Well, if you’re going to use my bubble bath, I’m joining you.” Wade said, crossing his arms with a huff. Wade crawled in, facing you and Logan on the opposite side of the tub. You smiled lazily. Logan kissed your neck, his arms wrapping around your stomach, holding you to his chest. Wade massaged your feet. Relaxing in the hot water with your two favorite men in the world, you felt blessed in this moment. Loved and cherished, better than you’ve felt in a long time.

A/N: AHHHHH this took so long I won’t lie I got writers block so hard I’m so sorry if this sucks, at the end I was just trying to finish it 😭😭 thank u tho hope y’all enjoy it a little bit

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xlocalxpunkx · 10 months ago

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you know if you don’t like seeing canonically bi/pan male characters with women thats fine but you can simply just shut up abt it and curate your online experiences instead of being misogynistic and biphobic. you know you can do that right

#this but it's also just actually not fine #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #hugh jackman #deadpool 3 #deadpool #ryan reynolds #wolverine #Deadpool is pan #this was abt bg3 but its not limited to that #hollowposts

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xlocalxpunkx · 10 months ago

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This is so fucking funny

*at a zoo*

Logan: What are they in for?

Wade: Logan, this isn't prison.

Logan: So they can leave?

Wade: No, but-

Logan, pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

#deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #deadpool 3 #ryan reynolds #deadpool #poolverine #marvel #x men #deadpool x wolverine #wolverine x deadpool

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xlocalxpunkx · 10 months ago

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Need you

Logan Howlett X GN!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: fluff, hardcore fluff, physical contact, embracing each other, cuddling, established relationship

Summary: Logan seeks you out for physical contact after a hard mission. The only thing on his mind is you, and how much he needs you. Your touch relaxes him, even more so with your power.

It was late, too late for you to be up. Logan walked briskly up to the mansions front door. All he could think about after tonight was you. Your warmth, your kindness, your love. He wanted to see your face, wanted to be sure you were real. He rushed into and through the mansion, up to your room. He didn’t bother closing the front door, he knew his teammates were behind him.

He stood next to the door for a second, contemplating whether to just go in or knock. His thoughts were cut off by your door opening.

“Oh, hi, Lo!” You were surprised he was home. The mission wasn’t supposed to be done for another day or two. Your hand was still on the door. Logan immediately wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you, tightly. A little too tight, but you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him back. “Are you okay, my love? Having trouble breathing.”

His hold on you loosened. He grumbled against your head, not quite making out what he was saying. He walked you further into your room, despite the fact that you were just leaving it. He flopped himself down on his back, dragging you with him.

“Need you.” He said, the first coherent thing he said that you could make out. You cuddled into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him. You could tell this mission didn’t go well.

You reached up, cupping his face gently. You rubbed your thumb against his cheek. He leaned into your touch. It sounded like a purr that came out of his throat, but you couldn’t be quite sure. You pushed your power out, relaxing him mentally. Your touch had the power to calm people down. That was all, you couldn’t control anyone. You couldn’t make them feel anything but calm.

You pulled yourself on top of him, clinging to him like a koala. His arms surrounded you. You nuzzled your face into his neck, closing your eyes. His scent surrounded you. Tobacco, pine and a musk that belonged to him and only him. The issue with your power was that when you used it, you could feel what the other person was feeling. You felt Logan’s anxiety, the anger. You pushed more, trying to keep him calm. His smell relaxed you more than he could ever know.

“ ‘s enough, sweetheart. Don’t have to try so hard.” He whispered, feeling your brows crease against his neck. You hesitated, withdrawing your power only slightly. His began to slide you off of him, standing up. You watched him strip his shirt off, then his jeans. He was left in his boxers. You stared at him; his perfect muscles, his defined v-line. You could stare at him all day.

He climbed into your bed. Your scent blinded his senses. Your soft blankets, pillows, and god, you. The smell of you was perfect. His large hands found you again, pulling you to him. Your head ended up slightly above him. His body was curled. Your legs intertwined with each other. Both bodies grew warm with the contact. Logan buried his head into your chest, resting his ear against your heart. One arm wrapped around his back, pulling him closer to you. Your other hand found itself petting his hair, and pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

“Jus’ wanna sleep next to you,” Logan sighed, “need you always. Mine, safe.” You nodded your head, not sure if he could tell.

“Yours, I’m right here, Lo. Safe and yours.” You replied. Snores were the only response you got. You chuckled lightly, watching him sleep for a few minutes. Your eyes eventually closed, falling asleep, limbs connected. Warm and safe between Logan’s arms, side by side.

A/N: God I miss my man and his embrace, need some cuddles for fucking real bruh

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #deadpool 3 #hugh jackman #wolverine #deadpool #ryan reynolds #the worst logan #logan x reader #fluff #fluffy #Logan fluff #X-men #x men movies

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xlocalxpunkx · 10 months ago

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Made me chuckle, giggle even <3

logan is the type of boyfriend to grab you by your hair and literally swing you to the ground if you try to open a door for yourself

#logan x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett headcanon #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x you #deadpool and wolverine

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xlocalxpunkx · 10 months ago

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Predator & Prey

Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Primal Play, public sex, smut, language, fingering (fem! Receiving), breeding, PinV, creampie, degradation, biting, choking, claiming, scratching, spanking, possessive! Logan, size k!nk, established relationship

Summary: Logan hunts you down in the woods, something you’ve discussed, and takes everything he wants from you.

You ran through the woods, twigs snapping beneath your feet. Your heart pounded in your chest. You could hear the blood rushing in your body. You were growing exhausted, afraid. The footsteps behind you grew louder; your stamina was giving out. You pushed further, hoping to escape the man chasing you. Your lungs heaved from the effort. You couldn’t last this run much longer. The footsteps gained on you. You fell forward, loosing your footing on a rock. The ground was wet, leaves sticking to your shirt. Large, warm hands grappled your shoulders. Quickly you were turned over, meeting the intense eyes of the man who was chasing you. He was huge. His build was bulky, broad, and perfectly muscular. His features were dark, rugged, and predatory. You couldn’t help but admit he was handsome. A familiar heat pooled in your panties, staring at this handsome ‘stranger’. He made you feel tiny, helpless. He yanked you up, roughly, and pressed you against a nearby tree.

His lips met yours in a haste. His chest was still heaving from the chase. Your heart was still pounding, the adrenaline slowly wearing off of the two of you. You kissed back, feverish with need. The hunt you had talked about went even better than you thought it would. He leaned down, nuzzled your neck and started to plant slow kisses down it.

“Mine.” He growled, pressing his erection against your thigh. His hands pinned your hips to the tree. Its bark scratched the back of your arms and neck, the spots bare. He sucked marks into your neck, claiming you. He leaned back, pulling at the hem of your shirt. You raised your arms helping him take it off. He quickly unclasped your bra and the button on your jeans. He pulled those off of you with ferocity. Like he was going to die if he didn’t see all of you right now. He yanked your panties down and flipped you around, hand on your back forcing you to bend over. You held onto the tree in front of you for support.

You heard his belt come undone, whimpering as the zipper of his jeans slid down. Your panties were pulled to the side, revealing your slick heat. He prodded a finger between your folds. A soft moan left your lips. His finger quickly found its place in your walls, sliding in and out. You knew he was trying to prep you for him. His finger curled into your g-spot, making you let out a louder moan. You were quite a few miles off of any trails near your cabin. No one should be able to hear you out here. Nobody should be able to see you. The thrill of being outside was still enough to keep the adrenaline in your veins. You could get caught out here, alone with him.

“Please.. need more..” you moaned out. His finger left you, the tip of his cock replacing it. He sheathed himself inside you with one movement. A yelp left your throat. The pace he set was inhuman, rapid and hard. He didn’t care if you came or not.

“Gonna breed you, pretty girl. Fucking mine.” He growled in your ear. His grip on your hips was bruising. The bark of the tree stabbed your hands. The stretched feeling he gave you was intense. Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to focus on the pleasure he was giving you. His cock was hitting so deep, so good inside you. Your walls clenched around him, trying to bring him in further.

“Such a fucking slut for me, huh, bub? You like when I fuck you like this? Out here in the open?” His voice was low, almost a snarl. You whimpered and nodded. His pace was unrelenting. His cock slipped in and out of your tight heat with ease.

“Like you were made for me, fuck. So fucking tight, such a good bitch for me.” He groaned. Your arms went around the tree, hugging it, to keep you from falling over. His hips slowed slightly, followed by a sharp smack to your ass made you squeak. Then, another one came. This one was harder than the last, making you wince in pain. His warm, large hand caressed the curve of where he smacked you. You were sure he left a handprint. His pace picked up again. His fingers found your clit, arm snaking around you. Rubbing quick circles around it, his canines scraped against your shoulder. You knew he was close, trying to get you to cum with him. His cock hit that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. You could feel the heat building up inside you.

“C’mon slut, cum on my cock. No one is ever gonna make you feel as good as I do.” His fingers continued their circling. The words drew you closer, but not quite there. His other hand left your hip, snaking up and around your chest, closing down on your throat. “Fucking mine. All mine.” The added words and stimulating sent you over the edge. Your heat snapped, crashing over you in waves. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, shaking around his cock. He continued to ruthlessly pound into you. His fingers still circling your clit. His grip on your throat got tighter.

His hips stuttered. You could feel the hot, thick liquid painting your walls. The feeling made you moan. He pulled out of you slowly, letting his cum drip out of you. You slowly straightened up, but his sudden grip on your hips made you gasp. He turned you around, feverishly kissing you. His hands slid under your thighs, picking you up. He used his waist to press you against the tree.

“Not done fucking you, slut. Gonna take all I want.” He growled against you. Your arms wound around his neck, one hand going into his hair. He lined his cock up with your aching cunt again, shifting you to slide down onto it. He set the same pace as before, ruthless, unrelenting, but heavenly all the same. The overstimulation made you cry out. He continued to pound into your pussy.

“So fucking tight, that’s it, bub, that’s it. Pull me in closer,” He whispered against your neck. Your arms found themselves leaving his neck and curling under and over his armpits, clinging onto his shoulders. Your nails scraped his back, making him growl. He began to leave more marks along your neck and chest. His cock stretched your walls perfectly. Your head lolled back against the tree. The bare skin of your back was definitely going to be scratched by the bark. He used a hand to press against the back of your knee, lifting it and spreading you at a different angle. The new angle allowed him to push deeper. With each thrust, his tip was hitting your cervix. Loud moans echoed throughout the woods around you. Your eyes were shut once again. His balls smacking against your ass, still heavy despite having came once already. You were close again. His cock was rubbing your walls in all the right places, every nook and cranny getting attention at this angle. He grazed your g-spot with each thrust. The sound of his claws unsheathing made your eyes spring open. Looking down towards his hands, one of them had his claws stuck in the wood of the tree behind you, the other was still holding your leg. His grunts and moans were egging you on, closer to relief.

“Fucking slut, gonna cum around me for the second time, c’mon pretty girl, fucking mine.” His voice grew hoarse. His balls felt tighter with every thrust. His pace quickened, letting his instincts go into that animalistic need he felt to claim you. To breed you. To fill you properly, so no man would ever touch you.

“Mine.” He growled. He pressed a kiss where your shoulder and neck met. A white-hot, searing pain met that same spot. You felt his cum and his teeth before you knew what was happening. Another orgasm hit you, his triggering it. The pleasure ran through you quickly, slick pouring out of you around him. His name left your lips as you rode your high. The electrifying feeling of his claim on you. You knew it was going to leave a scar, but you didn’t care. You were happy to be his. His cock slowed inside you, pumping slowly. You could feel him grow soft, but he stayed there. Holding you up, heaving against your neck.

“ ‘m sorry, princess. I lost control. Didn’t mean to.” His voice was soft, apologetic. He kissed the spot he bit, and you understood why he was apologizing. You kissed the side of his face.

“It’s okay, Lo. Felt good, ‘m happy to be yours.” You slurred, drunk from pleasure. His head whipped up, staring at you with wonder and shock. Reclaiming his neck with your arms, you pulled yourself off the tree. Hugging him with both your arms and your legs, his hands wrapped underneath you, supporting your weight.

“Take me home, need a shower,” You whined. He chuckled, kissing your forehead. “ n’ I want cuddles after.” He began to walk with you, towards the direction of his cabin. The warmth of your home and the hot water of a shower welcomed you back from the scene you played out. He showered with you, washing the dirt and checking your scratches from the tree carefully for you. After you both were cleaned up, you cuddled against his chest. His large arm wrapping around your frame, pulling you closer to him.

A/N: I need some rough primal play in my life and some sweet aftercare too pls

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #deadpool 3 #hugh jackman #wolverine #deadpool #the worst logan #logan x reader #ryan reynolds #logan howlett smut #the wolverine #xmen #x men movies #primal kink #primal play #smut #wolverine smut #x reader

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xlocalxpunkx · 10 months ago

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i’m telling you this shit isn’t even a joke anymore

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xlocalxpunkx · 10 months ago

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Pinned

Logan Howlett x Mutant! Fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, PinV (wrap it before u tap it), rough, sparring, age gap (legal), creampie, dom! Logan, oral (male receiving)

Summary: While sparring with Logan, he ends up pinning you to the ground. His heightened senses reveal your truths and you beg him to take you <3

Your mutant powers challenged Wolverine’s, with super strength and regenerative healing, you could spar with him any time. There was no fear of getting hurt.

He stood across from you, chest heaving and gleaming with sweat. His shoulders, broad and strong. His chest, the same. A pair of sweats hung low on his hips. Each muscle was perfectly defined. You could lick this man in front of you from his face to his cock and wouldn’t mind a single bit. A snarl reminded you what you were supposed to be doing. Blinking away your thoughts, you used his anger against him, moving quickly out of the way of his charged attacks. He was upset with not being able to beat you.

“That all you got, old man?” You grinned. The thrill of the fight sent shivers of adrenaline through you. His gaze hardened against you. With a growl, he lunged at you. You went to dodge, but it seemed he grew smarter about your tactics. At the last minute, he jutted to the opposite side, grabbing you at the waist and throwing you hard against the sparring mat. In the blink of an eye, he was on top of you, straddling your hips. One hand grasped your wrists and pinned them above your head. The other held himself up above you. You struggled, trying to get out from underneath him.

“So much for an old man, huh, bub?” He teased. The words sent a wave of arousal through you, making you squirm harder. He pressed your wrists further down against the mat, using more of his body weight to keep you there. He laughed lowly at your struggle.

“Even with your strength, you can’t get out of my grip? Looks like you need more practice, bub.” He growled.

“C’mon Lo, let me go!” You whined. Continuing to struggle against him, he smirked and kept you there.

“What’s the magic word, Princess?” He chuckled. He had never called you that before. The hold he had on you, the dominance he expelled, his tone of voice. All of it sent tingles through you, making heat pool in your underwear beneath your suit. A whimper left your throat when you noticed Logan’s nose twitch.

“Are you… getting turned on by this?” Logan questioned. You turned your head away from him, the crimson blush spreading across your cheeks was undeniable though.

“I can smell it, admit it. You think this is hot.” Logan’s grip on your wrists tightened. You sighed, knowing his heightened sense of smell made it impossible to lie. You nodded, not making eye contact with him. The heaviness against your wrists became drastic as he used it hold up his weight. With his other hand, he grasped your chin, forcing your head to turn to him.

“Words. Now.” He commanded. You gulped. The arousal pitted inside you grew deeper. You had a soft spot for being dominated. Most men or women didn’t have the strength to fight you. Finally, having someone who can hold you down. Someone who could fulfill your fantasies about being manhandled? You couldn’t resist the opportunity that presented itself. The fact that Logan hadn’t removed himself from the situation, despite knowing your arousal was there was spurring enough.

“Yes, I think it’s hot. I think you’re hot. I think, that you could fuck me right here and I wouldn’t mind.” The words spilled out of you before you could stop to even comprehend what you were saying. A mischievous grin spread across his rugged features and he leaned down. His beard scratched the side of your face.

“Right here, huh, bub? On the ground?” He teased. You nodded. He pressed his lips to yours. Arching your back to his chest, you tried to kiss him deeper. The control he had on your wrists still made it impossible. The kiss became heated as you moaned into his mouth. Any resolve you had dropping within moments. He finally released your wrists, grabbed your hips, and rolled the two of you over. You were now straddling him, but the kiss continued. Your hands found balance on his neck and in his hair. You gripped his hair tightly, pulling his head back to kiss his neck and leave small marks. A growl left his throat as he muttered something.

“What was that, old man?” You questioned, continuing your actions.

“I called you a fucking tease, Princess.” He retorted. The sound of his claws unsheathing was apparent. The cold air hitting your now bare skin clued you in on exactly what he did. He had cut your suit open through the back. His claws went back into his knuckles. He began to peel away the skin-tight body suit. You leaned back to help him pull it off. Your sweaty skin made the suit sticky to the touch and relieving to take off.

Once the suit was off entirely, leaving you in just your bra and panties, Logan kissed you again. His warm hands drew circles into your hips, lightly massaging them. One hand circled around your back, unclamping the bra. You let it fall to the floor. One of his hands stayed in your hip, while the other groped one of your boobs. He circled your nipple with his index finger, making it hard, before leaning down and taking it between his teeth. You caressed the back of his head, biting your lip and arching your back in reaction. His arms wound around your waist, holding you closer to him. You grounded against his still-clothed, agonizingly hard cock. Your head threw back, moaning as hick brushed against your clit through your underwear.

He pushed you onto your back against the mat, towering above you. His arms caging you in. He ground his hard on into you slowly, watching his own action. He leaned back against his legs. With one swift action, your underwear was torn away from your body. He stood up and pulled off his sweats, wearing nothing underneath. Your eyes widened, his size was impeccable. Huge, just like the man in front of you. Thick, heavy, and seeding with pre-cum. A large vein ran on the underneath of his cock. You shifted to be on your knees.

“Get it wet, slut. Then, I’m taking what’s mine.” He growled. One of his gripped the base of his cock, pointing it straight and the other gripped the hair on the backside of your head. You let him lead you. Opening your mouth, you took him in. A groan escaped his throat, low and gravelly, turning you on even more. His grip on your hair tightened, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. You gagged around him, tears brimming at your eyes. You looked up at him through your eyelashes to find him staring right back at you. He slowly pushed into your throat further. The choking sound of you around his cock made him pull out enough to give you some breathing room. You nodded, cock still in mouth and he began to fuck your throat; Fast, hard, and sure to leave a bruise at the back of it. You used his thighs to steady yourself against him. Gaging and choking before he finally pulled out, satisfied with the wetness on it.

He pushed you against the floor again, settling himself between your legs. Using his hands against the back of knees, he bent you.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy, love.” He growled, lining himself up against your entrance. He slid his cock through your folds, teasing you just enough to make you whine.

“Beg.” He commanded.

“Please, Lo, I need you..” you whimpered out. He shook his head.

“Know you can do better than that, slut. C’mon, beg for it.” His cock pressed into you slightly, just the tip. You moaned at the slight stretch. He tutted.

“Pretty please with a cherry on top, need you, please Lo. I need you so bad it hurts!” you cried. He sheathed himself inside you with one quick thrust. A loud yelp left your throat. His heavy balls pressed against your ass, completely bottoming out inside you. He sat still, letting you adjust to his sheer size.

“Ready?” He asked after a minute.

“Yes, Lo.” You replied. He slowly began to move inside you. Your walls clenched around him. You moaned in pleasure. The stretched feeling you had made you grip his forearms tightly. He began to quicken his pace, hitting the spongey spot inside you. You cried out. His hips faltered, looking at you in concern.

“Good or bad?” He asked.

“Good, do that again please.”

He laughed at your whining. His thrusts picked up again. Pounding into you, your back sticking to the mat. He adjusted his position, leaning his weight against one forearm on the ground next to your head. With his other hand , he pressed your leg up. The new angle hit even deeper. His head, now next to yours, let you hear every grunt and low moan he let out. Your pussy squeezed him, the tension in your stomach building. He hit your g-spot with each thrust. Your moaning got louder, getting closer to climaxing with every thrust.

A thumb suddenly brushed your clit. You arched your back against it. The stimulation was to much but not enough at the same time.

“More, please, Lo,” you begged, “please.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him in closer. His thrusts got harder, ruthlessly pounding into you. Your walls ached with need around him. Muscles tensing and relaxing with each thrust.

“Fuck, such a tight little cunt,” He groaned in your ear. His thumb stuck itself to your clit, circling it quickly. “C’mon, Princess, come undone around my cock.”

His words sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you. His thumb continued to circle your clit, still thrusting into you. The overstimulation made your eyes roll back. No sounds could be produced as your orgasm rolled through you. His pace quickened, chasing his own orgasm.

“Think you got a second one for me, Princess?” He drawled, “C’mon, I know you do.” His thumb still drawing circles against your clit making your hips buck. You nodded, desperately wanting to please him. Your thighs tightened around his waist, another orgasm approaching quickly. The stimulation against your both your g-spot and clit racking it up even higher. Your hips continued to buck, until he used his hands and forced your hips down against the mat. Using your hips as a stabilizer, he fucked into you. The feeling of him pinning you down, completely using you to fulfill his own needs made you tremble underneath him.

His thick cock moving in and out of you felt amazing, hitting your g-spot every time. Your eyes squeezed shut, moaning and squirming beneath him as he pounded into you. The sound of your wetness and his ball smacking against your ass sent you further into pleasure. Another orgasm ripped through you suddenly, waves of pleasure flowing through you. His hips stuttered. Your orgasm had brought on his own. You clenched down, milking his cock for everything he had. You could feel his hot, thick cum dripping between your legs as he slowly pulled out. He flopped beside you onto his back, hitting the mat heavily.

“Fucking great, Princess,” He turned his head towards you with a devilish grin. “Gotta spar like that more often.” You nodded. With a wink, he got up and grabbed his towel he used to wipe his sweat after training and brought it to you instead. He sat down on the ground in front of you, gently wiping away his cum and cleaning you up. A sweaty, tired smile appeared on your face.

“Thanks, Lo.” You whispered as you sat up. He hummed and kissed your forehead, standing up. He held out a hand to help you up. You took it, letting him pull you up. You held his hand tightly, struggling to stay upright on your legs. He chuckled, letting you lean against him.

“Lo, I’m naked and I can’t walk, how the hell am I supposed to get back to my room?” You questioned, lightly giggling. The whole ordeal seemed unreal. He brought you over to the chair his towel was on and sat you down. He walked around the room, picking up your undergarments and giving them to you. He tossed his wife-beater tank top at you. Slipping your clothes and his tank on, you tried standing up but failed, slumping back into the chair. Logan laughed, loudly, much to your dismay. He came over and picked you up, bridal style.

“I’ll carry you back, Princess.” He explained. Your eyes widened at the thought. Like he was reading your mind, he added, “Most of the team is out, we’ll be fine. Plus, don’t think I’m quite done with you yet.”

You blushed, hiding your face against his chest. You simply nodded, and clung tighter to him. He brought you to your room. Luckily, no one saw. Kicking the door closed behind him, he set you on the bed gently.

“Can cuddle for a minute first?” You mumbled. He kissed your forehead again, nodding. He climbed into bed next to you. He let you snuggle up against him, his chest still bare. You accidentally dozed off, almost immediately, tired from the ‘sparring’.

A/N: I’m watching X-Men: Days of Future Past and Logan is so cunty I can’t 70’s fashion suits him so well. And just the physique Jesus Christ the first scene with him showing almost everything 🫣🫣 my jaw, on the floor. My panties, soaked. Thank you 🙏🏻

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