The Worst!wolverine X Reader Trope Where One Of Them Was Deeply In Love With A Variant Of The Other Who

the worst!wolverine x reader trope where one of them was deeply in love with a variant of the other who they tragically lost kind of gives multiversal honda odyssey... taking years and years for them to get back home to the other, even if it's in a different universe

a greek epic au would be soooo delicious imagine the angst the pining

logan babygirl let me be your penelope 😩

Hes so fucking BIGGG

— sugarplum (hayden x f!reader)

masterlist | ao3

summary: you had a long day. hayden helps you unwind.

“You know I’m not done with you, right, baby doll?” His voice was rough, breath tickling your cheek as he ground up into you. You nodded, knowing how ruined he’d have you by the time the night was over.

notes: explicit, f!farmer, soft dom!hayden, light punishment, light spanking (extremely light, it's basically a pat on the boob), oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie

word count: 1,645

Hayden could always tell when you needed to unwind. That’s how you ended up feeling the warmth of the fireplace and the plush cushions beneath your bare thighs as he ate you out on his couch. His tongue lapped at your core, dripping with his saliva and your own arousal. His nose teased at your swollen clit as he worked you towards your climax, the vibrations of his animalistic grunts against your pussy spurring you on.

Hayden hadn’t even taken his pants off yet, and you were naked beneath him, vulgar whimpers escaping your lips. He loved how you tasted, how you went boneless the moment he took your chin between his fingers and asked if you needed to let go for a little while. And your man was more than happy to give you exactly what you wanted.

“Hayden, Hayden, Please-” You cried, fingers gripping hard at his hair.

He looked up to respond, and you moaned at the loss of his sweet lips and tongue. He pushed two fingers into your aching hole in consolation.

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl?”

You moaned your assent, his finger hitting that spot inside that made you see stars. The tension in your belly coiled and coiled and when he returned his mouth to your center, kissing and sucking at your clit, the thread snapped and you cried out.

“That’s right sweetheart, so good for me, ain’t that right?”

When you tried to say yes, all that came out was a warbled keen. His fingers kept working you past your orgasm, delightfully overwhelming. Hayden’s lips ghosted sweet kisses across your inner thighs as you came down from your peak.

His hands found your ass as he flipped you around to straddle him, your cunt moistening his worn denim. He captured your lips, and you could taste yourself on him, salty and warm.

“You know I’m not done with you, right, baby doll?” His voice was rough, breath tickling your cheek as he ground up into you. You nodded, knowing how ruined he’d have you by the time the night was over.

His fingers found your pussy again, pumping in and out of you in a way he knew would have you clenching around him in just a few minutes. One hand cupped your breast, his mouth finding your taut nipple, teeth biting, then tongue soothing. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you felt him fill you with those large fingers, aching delightfully from the impact. 

Hayden tutted, “Eyes open, sugarplum.” The command in his voice was so juxtaposed with the pet name. “Want you to look me in the eye when I make you come. Can’t have you forgettin’ those manners, can we darlin’?”

He slapped your tit lightly in reprimand, barely more than a pat, and you moaned. 

“‘M sorry, Hade.”

The hand fingering you sped up to a punishing pace, and you had to fight to keep your eyes open and locked on his.

“Now come on and lemme feel that pretty pussy come on my fingers, alright, honey?”

You whined, already bordering on overstimulated even though this would only be your second climax. He could play you like a fiddle.

“I know you can do it, love bug. Just one more. Then I’ll let you feel my cock, hmm? That’s what you want, ain’t it?” 

Nodding, every filthy word shooting lightning down your belly, you couldn’t help but let your eyes falter for just a moment too long as you tumbled over the edge of your orgasm. You felt rough hands grab either side of your cheek, startling your eyes open.

“Now that’s not very polite, is it, baby doll?” He looked at you with eyes filled not with disappointment, but with mirth. You liked when he had to punish you. 

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, didn’t mean to-”

He smiled up at where you sat; his fingers stilled to a stop inside you. “I know, sweet girl, but a rule’s a rule, ain’t it?”

You nodded, ready for whatever penance he had in mind. His discipline was never very unpleasant. You liked rules, guidelines to follow, feeling lost without the tenets of the adventurer’s guild. And he liked to wring each last drop of pleasure from your body until every thought left that pretty little head and all you remembered was his name.

Hayden splayed his arms out over the back of the couch, a smirk playing at his lips.

“On your knees, baby doll.”

You eagerly complied. He always spent so long overstimulating, fingering, eating you out before he put his cock inside. It wasn’t often that you got to feel your mouth get thoroughly used by your man.

“Keep those hands behind your back, darlin’. Unless you want me to tie ‘em up.”

Hayden unzipped his pants and roughly pushed them down to his ankles while you waited patiently, hands behind your back, eyes angled up towards him sweetly. His cock sprung up to his belly, speckled with dark hair. His hands found your hair and pulled your lips roughly around his hard length, the tip flushed and leaking. 

Hayden was a large man, tall and broad. He was well endowed, to say the least. His cock was a stretch even in your pussy, and your jaw had to work to fit him in your mouth. He eased your lips onto him until the head bumped against your throat. Tears welled in your eyes, his grip easing you back and forth. As you teased him with your lips and tongue, you could feel Hayden’s self control faltering, until he finally started rutting into your mouth. You took him like that for minutes, hands never moving, him letting you pause just enough to catch your breath before using your mouth for his own pleasure. You knew this was meant to be a punishment, but it had you soaking his carpet with your arousal. When he was finally getting close, he forced you off his cock with a slick pop. 

“Mmm, you made it up so good to me, sugarplum.”

His hands laced through your hair so gently. You knew gentle wasn’t how he was about to fuck you. He knelt down before you on the floor, breath hot on your ear.

“But you know I couldn’t finish in that pretty mouth of yours. I’m gonna come in that sweet little pussy.”

You let out a ragged breath. Hayden pushed you both down to lie on the floor, the fireplace crackling like your desire. He crawled atop you, cock pressed against your navel.

“P- please-”

“Mmm, you want it, baby?”

You nodded frantically, “Please, Hayden, please-” Your voice trembled with raw need, cunt throbbing while your plea hung in the air.

Sometimes he made you beg for it, made you say exactly what you wanted. But today he was aching to be inside you. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder so he’d be able to angle himself real deep, just how you liked it.

Hayden aligned himself at your entrance, using your hips to hold himself steady, making you whine when his tip slid against your clit. You were so wet for him, desperate to feel him filling you up, desperate to find even more of your own pleasure. When he finally thrusted into you, it was agonizingly slow. If you asked him to go any faster, he’d say he didn’t wanna hurt you. But you knew he just liked to tease you, elongating this moment of taking you. Since begging would do you no good, you whined.

When Hayden pushed at your walls, it was always snug. Today was no different; tears welling in your eyes from the white-hot pleasure.

Hayden’s thumb gently wiped away your tears as he started moving roughly within you. 

“Don’t cry, baby doll. Does it feel good?”

He knew the damn answer.

Your response was breathless. “Y-yes! Mmm, Hayden, feels s-” you whimpered as his length found the sweet spot inside you before continuing. “F- feels so good!”

Your mind was filled with the sounds of your wetness squelching as he moved within you, the bolt of pleasure when he hit that perfect spot inside, the slap of his balls against your ass as his hips met yours. His thumb circled your swollen clit, milking your climax out of you with a cry. You felt your walls spasm against his cock, buried deep. Your eyes never left Hayden’s as he fucked you through your orgasm. He gently cupped your jaw as he rammed into your aching cunt.

“That’s right, sweet girl, feels so good coming on my cock. That’s my girl, that’s it.” His praise was sweet as honey. His words turned to moans and his hips stuttered out, his cock buried deep within you, when he finally came with a cry. You felt his hot seed deep inside, marking you, claiming you. 

Hayden sighed and laid down on his back, pulling you on top of him while he slid from your pussy. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head in the crook of his neck. The aroma of wood-smoke and soil filled your nostrils, his hands drawing slow circles on your back.

“You take my cock so good, baby. So good for me.”

You smiled, boneless atop him, and thoroughly blissed out.

When you didn’t respond, you felt Hayden’s fingers worry at your hair.

“You alright, darlin’?”

You nodded into his shoulder. “Yeah, Hayden. More than alright.”

All the tension from your day, the ache in your shoulders from weeding your fields, the scrape on your knee from your trip to the mines, it all melted away when Hayden took care of you like this. 

“Thank you, baby. I feel a lot better.”

Hayden smiled into the top of your head, kissing softly.

“Anything for my girl.”

a/n: omg i couldn't get dom!hayden out of my head!! i had so much fun writing this!! i would be remiss if i didn't mention that soo much inspiration for their dynamic came from @eupheme's delicious logan fics! i'm stuck with covid right now, so i binged them HARD. i soo wanted to indulge myself and see what hayden might be like in this sort of dynamic. if there is one thing i know about hayden, it is that he can FUCK!!!

holy shit?? anon thank you for your service. eupheme thank you for always DELIVERING :')

logan is such a slut for telepaths and i'm sooo weak for it omfg...

Your grip means nothing, then. Not more than an anchor, as your back begins to sag against the wall. But you’re no longer guiding. Now, you’re just taking.

no words for this omfg... HOT!!!

Taking the open-mouth kiss against your thigh. The sharp sting as his teeth skate across your skin. Tongue lapping at your clit, tracing out things he can’t yet say

i love him this is SO sweet... why is my type emotionally unavailable disaster men!!! :')

okay yk the scene in deadpool & wolverine where wade asks "what's the wind resistance on those blowjob handles?" SOO HEAR ME OUT ON THIS logan eating out reader with his cowl on and her using the so called "blowjob handles" (i need him so bad it's not even funny)

ooh omg YES, I’ve been wanting to write something with Logan in his suit, and this is so perfect! 💖 thank you so much for sending over this idea - they really do look so grab-able!

logan howlett x mutant!f!reader | oral & piv | 600 words

The leather of his cowl bites into your thighs, cool against your heated skin.

Could’ve taken the time to remove it, but that would’ve been another minute between him and what he really wants.

To devour you.

You don’t even make it inside. The thrum of adrenaline still echos in your veins - something hushed, in the dark corridor outside your room. Mouths that met as he felt your pulse kick beneath the press of his thumb, hand fitting around your throat.

Swallowing the whine of need, when it slipped from you. Teasing you with a promise, as his tongue licked against yours.

The zipper of your suit yanked down, as he sank to his knees. Grime and smears of long-healed red still streaked across yellow and blue - a thigh hooked over a broad shoulder.

There’s the firm press of his nose against your mound, shielded in leather. His eyes beneath the mask matching the blown-wide white, as he inhales you - barely swallowing the stifled moan.

Finger hook beneath the gusset of your underwear. His tongue already pressing to the fabric, even before he’s fully bared you.

Needing this - needing you, as your fingers scrabble against the suit for purchase. An urge to ground yourself, before you’re pulled under.

There’s a grunt, as you find the ears of his cowl, grasping on. The sharp tug as you guide him to where you throb - the words lost between your mind and your mouth.

Slipping out of your thoughts instead, as they often did for him - projected emotion buzzing against his skin, shooting straight to where his cock already strains against the tight suit.

He’s learned to read them. The shaky throb of desire hitting him just before he could smell the sweet tang of your cunt.

Already panting, from how he’s kissed you. How he looked at you, on the trip back - something sparking then, before words were ever exchanged. Simmering beneath your skin.

Broad hands trace up your thighs - palming your ass, if only to further tilt you against his mouth. Letting him lick you from hole to clit, tasting every inch of you.

Unable to get enough. Content to lose himself in the warm clutch of your cunt. How you tighten around the curl of his tongue, when his head angles.

Your grip means nothing, then. Not more than an anchor, as your back begins to sag against the wall. But you’re no longer guiding.

Now, you’re just taking.

Taking the open-mouth kiss against your thigh. The sharp sting as his teeth skate across your skin. Tongue lapping at your clit, tracing out things he can’t yet say.

Intent on feeling your pulse around him. Intent on tasting how your arousal drips against his tongue, as you tremble against him.

The feeling of his name in your thoughts, as your teeth bite down to muffle your cry - this sweet hum that he can never get enough of.

Logan won’t stop, not until your legs give out completely.

And only then, will there be the rough fumble to free himself. A gritted-out moan when he can finally fit his fist around his flushed cock. Hitching your thighs around his waist, inching himself inside where you’re soaked through and dripping.

A low growl at the bliss, head tipped back as you clench down around him. Finally hilting himself, as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Giving you a moment to inhale a breath, before he starts to pound into you.

It’s worth the wait. Never had much patience.

Except for this.

thank you so much for sending this! 💖

logan howlett icons || x-men (2000)

MAKE HIM DO WHAT I SAY ♡

pairing: older bf!!logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan make a little bet. who can last longer without sex? as much as he wants to deny it, he's starting to think the answer might be you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief daddy kink (one mention)

a/n: a commission for my sweet @sleepyluxe who i love so very much <33 this fic takes place after the events of dofp when things are fixed.

Seven days. One week. A quarter of a month. That's how long it had been since Logan and you had fucked.

It was brutal. Some may say he's being dramatic, but that's because they've never had the luxury of you. They couldn't understand losing a paradise they've never experienced. The past several days he's felt like a man wandering through a barren desert, the oasis in sight but never close enough to drink from. Absolute torture

Unfortunately, this situation came about because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

You'd been getting some work done late last Sunday evening. Just a few plans for the upcoming school week. Your fingers punched away at your computer while Logan lay on the bed twirling a stray cigar between his fingers.

"How many more pages you got?" he asked, boosting his head up to glance at you.

At the sound of his voice, you spun your chair around to face him. "Not that many. Just finalizing a few details for the field trip they're taking the kids on next weekend," you said.

"You're not even going. Why're they making you do that?"

The fat stick of tobacco continued to glide between his digits. One of your legs crossed over the other as you watched him.

"I'm not going because I offered to do all the planning," you reminded him. 

Your eyes stayed on the tantalizing movements of his fingers.

"You know you can't smoke in here, so don't even think about it," you said.

He rolled his eyes and puffed air through his pursed lips as if that was an outrageous warning. Sitting up, he put the cigar back in the drawer on his side of the bed. He rose to his feet and began to cross the room in your direction.

"Maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth then," he teased, his voice lowering to the octave that reverberated with want for you.

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned your chair back toward the desk and continued grazing your fingertips over the raised letters.

It didn't deter him though. He kept on in your direction, stopping only when he was directly behind the backing of your seat.

His hands landed on your shoulders, fingers massaging the tight muscles fanning out from your neck. He leaned forward so his head hovered beside yours. You could hear each breath he took. The smell of that cigar lingered around his form even if he hadn't lit up tonight.

"C'mon, babydoll. You've been working so hard. A little break won't hurt you," he murmured, lips pressing against your cheekbone.

"I have to have these done by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be done for the night and completely focused on you," you'd rebuffed him gently.

But that didn't satisfy Logan. When he wanted you, he got you. He proceeded with his tender touches and luring pecks. You remained focused on your work though. He figured he should vary his approach.

"Just let me make you feel good then, honey. Give you some extra motivation," he whispered. His dedicated hands drifted to your waist, squeezing in a way that teased the idea of lifting you up and putting you on his lap. As good as it would've felt to be full of him, you knew you had to get this done.

"You're so bad," you said with a smile, head falling back a little as his mouth moved to your neck, "You act like you haven't gotten any in decades."

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting tired of me?" he teased.

"No. I'm just saying you're insatiable. It's getting to the point where I don't think you could live without me," you responded with a tone matching his in arrogance.

His eyebrow raised, and he pulled back a little to laugh. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Your sweet eyes stared him down, begging him to disagree.

Looking back, he wishes he could travel through time again to slap any further words out of his mouth. He should've just agreed! Should've told you that you were absolutely right. That he can't live without you, can't survive this life if he doesn't get to slip inside of you at the end of each day. He should've waited the fifteen minutes it would've taken you to finish your paperwork and then gotten laid.

But he didn't do any of that. He had to keep going and dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Don't act so innocent, princess. You're just as bad as me," he'd said.

"No way," you'd huffed, smirking with amusement, "I want you a totally normal amount. You want me like every second of the day. If you could, I don't think you'd ever let me do anything. You'd probably keep me chained to the bed, yours for the taking at all times of the day.

"Like you wouldn't love that. I'm not the one pawing at you every morning, whining about how bad I need it," he taunted.

"Oh shut up, that's happened like a couple times. Every day you're right in my ear, feeling me up. You practically drag me away from what I'm doing when you wanna fuck," you fired back, "I am nowhere near as bad as you."

And then he'd spoken the three cursed words that launched him into this predicament.

"You wanna bet?"

You laughed more at that and nodded again. "Sure. Because I know I'll win."

And that unofficial vow of celibacy was why the two of you had been dancing around each other for the past week. He was starting to feel like that old love song counting the amount of time it'd been since he had you beneath him last. Fifteen hours and seven days or however it went.

You didn't make this trying time any easier for him either. That night he went to sleep with blue balls. The next morning, he woke up to you getting ready. You weren't dressed in your usual style of clothing though. Instead, you had on a dress, Logan's favorite dress of yours. You'd styled your hair real pretty too, letting it compliment your features in the best way.

As his heavy lids blinked open to consciousness, he watched you fasten a shimmering necklace over your collarbone. It sat just above the neckline of the chiffon fabric that adorned your bust.

You caught his waking eyes with your own in the reflective glass, turning to look at him with a bright smile. 

Despite his bleary vision, he could hear the light steps of you prancing over to him. The mattress dipped with your weight as you sat down and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers slid through his dark hair just the way he likes, with your nails scratching his scalp a little. Worst of all, that close, the scent of your perfume became all consuming. It hit him harder than normal. He wasn't sure if he should blame you or himself for predicting the trials of the coming days.

He hummed in acknowledgement of your presence and nuzzled into your palm.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you cooed, your voice extra soft and sweet. It was too caring to be seductive, but of course, that's where his mind went anyways.

"Hey, baby," he'd mumbled.

"I gotta go drop off that paperwork, but I'll see you later. I love you," you whispered in return before laying one more column of kisses from the tip of his nose back to his forehead.

Then you'd left, leaving him half-hard and yearning for you. A pattern that would plague him over the next week.

Each day it was some new form of torture. The day after that, you'd worked extra hard in the danger room, coming back to him at night covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your heady natural scent filled the bedroom in moments.

The following afternoon, you wanted to cuddle when you both had some free time. The fact that you draped your leg over his torso, slotting your clothed cunt right against his hip, inches away from his cock, was pure accident of course.

Over the last few days, your games have become less specific. You peppered your speech with innuendo. Looked at him with your fuck-me eyes and spoke in the tone you always used seconds before he ended up bending you over the nearest surface.

He tried to fight back, he really did. He stopped wearing a shirt in your shared room. Every time he talked to you, he made sure to rub your ass or stroke your cheek. He was so desperate he stooped to embarrassing levels of lovey-dovey when the two of you were alone. But no matter what he tried, it seemed like you'd been right. Of your pair, you had the superior restraint.

With each passing hour, his frustration grew.

Today, it reaches its zenith.

The mansion is empty because it's Sunday. All the students and other teachers are out on the trip to the observatory today. You and Logan are the only remaining residents in the school. He ended up not having to tag along with the rest of the group after volunteering to fix the sprinklers bordering the school's patio. Babysitting kids had never been his forte even with all the practice he gets at it now. Simple handiwork he could do no problem.

The two of you take the morning to sleep in. This was a rare occasion where no early meetings or classes occupied your schedules. You stay tangled up together well past sunrise.

Logan is the first to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He pulls himself from the nest of pillows and blankets, stretching his limbs out as he does. He rubs the tiredness from his features before rising and heading to the wardrobe to pull on some clothes.

In addition to his normal black t-shirt and jeans, he grabs the tool belt on his way out to the lawn. He slings it around his hips before walking through the back door. Heading past the basketball court and rows of hedges, he finds the line of leaking sprinklers besides them. It would probably take him a while given that he had to first identify the source of the problem and then recalibrate all of them with the adjustment.

He sighs but gets to work. At least he'd have a distraction from the desires haunting him.

Crouching in the dewy grass next to the little faucets, he begins examining the hard plastic shells. To his surprise, scanning for breaks does attach his mind to the task and give him a brief reprieve. It's quiet outside. Besides a small chirp from a distant bird or a grunt out of him, no other sounds echo over the open space. The sun shines in the sky, but it's not beating down on him. The air tickles his skin with warmth but not to the point of being miserably humid.

All the conditions meet in the perfect middle to keep him calm. It's the most peace he's had since he agreed to this bet between the two of you.

But all that tranquility is shattered about a half hour later when he hears the patter of footsteps against the stone pathway. From around the tall thicket of green foliage, comes you. Your face breaks out into a smile the second you burst into his vision. He would look the same if not for what you'd decided to wear.

You trot over to him across the grass in a pair of tiny black shorts with lacy frills on the hems. They sway with each of your movements, highlighting the shape of your legs. A gray camisole graces your upper half; a delicate white bow sits at the center of the collar, dead center between your breasts. The fit of the garment displays the contour of your chest just right. He feels like he's gonna start drooling before you make it near.

Despite his reaction, the outfit wasn't that provocative. It wasn't like you'd strutted out in lingerie. But he was so pent up that a flash of your ankle in the proper lighting could probably get him hard.

Bounding up to him, you wrap his body in a tight hug. Every curve of your form presses up against him.

"Look at you, working so hard," you praise playfully with a kiss to his cheek.

He laughs it off, returning the hug in an attempt to be normal, so you wouldn't see how vulnerable he was right now, how this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't let you know that in this moment, he could easily become the prey.

"Were you missing me already?" he asks, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

"Mhm. Woke up and you were gone," you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, planting a few electric kisses on his skin.

"I didn't wanna wake you. You're pretty cute when you're sleeping," he mutters.

"Well now I'm gonna be cute out here with you," you say and pull back. You peck his lips one more time before plopping down in the grass behind him.

He glances back at you to see what that means. All you're doing is sitting there. Your legs extend out in front of you, straightened for his eyes to rake over. You lean back with your palms against the moist greenery below you.

"You don't got anything better to do with your day off?" he asks.

That earns him a small pout. "If you want me to leave, I will. I just wanna spend time with you."

He can tell by your tone that your intentions aren't so innocent. You're leading him into allowing your presence. But denying his girlfriend has never been one of the wolverine's strengths so of course, he acquiesces.

"Relax. I'm not telling you to go anywhere," he says as he turns back to his work, "I just don't think this will be that interesting to you."

"Watching you do anything is interesting to me," you joke back.

He rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

At first, things are smooth as before. He continues messing with the small, bendy pipes. You're quiet behind him. Almost too quiet, but he lets it go for now since he thinks he's found the source of the malfunction.

It doesn't take long to patch up. The more difficult part is going to each individual head and fixing the tightness. His fingers twist the little knobs to the correct settings. He then turns to you when he's finally done.

The sight of you feels like a gust of fresh air filling his lungs. You're laid out where you were before, but you've reclined across the ground. One of your arms is sprawled outwards, soaking up the sunlight while the other lazily covers your eyes. Your shadow outlines your figure against the emerald blades below you.

You look luscious and ripe, like a precious fruit ready to be picked and devoured. In any other circumstance, that's exactly what he'd do. He'd spread you out further for him and take you apart piece by piece. He wanted your nectar running down his chin with each savoring lap of his tongue. He craved the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, your walls massaging his shaft during every punishing thrust.

Imagining it now only gets the blood pumping down South to his hardening length.

He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Why didn't he do that now? What was the point of this stupid fucking contest? It's not like there was anything on the line. The only stake was his pride, which to be honest, he'd already compromised for you multiple times over the course of your relationship.

Unbuckling the leather from his waist, he discards the tool belt. Next he peels his shirt from his body and tosses it to the side.

He makes his way to you on the grass. He drops to his knees and leans forward. His muscular frame cages you in against the ground. Starting at your navel, he drags his nose up your body. He coasts over the valley between your breasts and past your collar bone. His soft exhales breeze across your throat before he finally reaches your cheek. With a gentle pull, he clears your arm from your face.

Your eyes flutter to adjust to the sunlight beaming down on them again. They take in the vision of him so close to you and the way he gazes down with adoration.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, his voice much softer than it'd been before, "You falling asleep on me?"

His thumb rubs over your jawline while the other strokes the crown of your head. A smile blooms across your lips. You can't help it with how he's behaving.

"No... well, maybe a little. I think you were right. Sprinklers are pretty boring," you say.

He grins and leans in to kiss your lips. With the exchange he hopes to communicate everything he doesn't want to say. I give up. You win.

You reach up and cup his scruffy cheeks. Your tongue swipes against his lips, sensing his longing for intimacy. He allows you in, and you deepen the connection. A long breath oozes from your nostrils.

He presses you down against the ground further as your hands slide over the little white streaks in his hair. Your fingers embed themselves in his locks. You feel his hands sliding down your body. They stop at your hips and give the plush flesh a squeeze.

It's obvious what he wants, but in case there was any doubt, his digits then hook around the top of your shorts and give them a tug.

A giggle bubbles up out of you against his mouth. You pull back to look at him with smug eyes.

"Is that your way of admitting I was right?" you ask.

He grumbles and ducks his head down to start kissing your neck. "Don't get cocky or I'll change my mind."

That makes you laugh more. You yank on his hair and pull him back up to look at you. 

"No you won't," you tease and brush your noses together. Looking into his eyes again, you can see how bad he wants this. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're giving in. And that I win. And that you can't live without me."

He gives you a blank stare. Silently, he contemplates if there's any way around this. He wonders if there's a way he can avoid utter humiliation.

"C'mon, baby. Throw an old dog a bone," he grumbles.

Giggling, you shake your head. "Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it."

He sighs and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips with learned ease. Your smile glows from this angle. The sunlight above cascades over your frame and only further accentuates your body in your tight clothes. He rubs his hands up and down your sides. His dick is already at half-mast under the denim that covers his lower body. Your heat rests right on top of it, teasing him through the barriers of cloth. It dangles what he could have if he gives you what you want right before him.

The words that challenged you and created this trap for himself came out so easy. Why couldn't these be the same?

To coax him along, you grind down the slightest bit. The pressure's so light and gentle, a mere graze of your mound on the outline of his growing bulge. He hisses at the feeling.

"Just admit it," you say, planting your palms on his chest, "Just say I was right and you were wrong."

He watches you above him, knowing you're not going to drop this. If he wanted this self-invoked dry spell to end, he'd have to make it happen.

You roll your hips down with more force, impatient to hear him comply with your request. A small whimper leaks out of you. He can tell from that sound alone that you're getting worked up. That arousal is beginning to collect between your thighs.

The thought of it makes his need for you almost biological. His hands clamp around your waist and press you down harder. He rocks his up a little to meet your own movements.

"I need you so bad, princess," he sighs, his eyes shutting as he takes in the dull pleasure of you on top of him.

"Then you can say what I told you," you tease.

"What was it again?" he asks as he continues dragging your covered pussy back and forth along his now fully hard shaft.

"Say you're giving in. That I win. And that you can't live without me," you remind him, visibly proud of your victory.

With a sigh, he repeats, "I'm giving in. You win. I can't live without you."

You smile and laugh as if it was the best thing you'd ever heard. Your head falls back with glee before coming up so you can see his face again.

"Actually, can you say that again? I'm gonna grab my phone. That way I can film it this time. I just wanna have a record-" you continue to tease, but you're cut off by your own squeal when he grabs you and flips you back over onto your back. He keeps you quiet by smashing his lips against yours as your back thuds against the grass.

This kiss burns hotter than the last one. His mouth moves with bruising passion as he pulls your shorts down your legs for real. You help him by kicking them loose. His hands roam around over your smooth skin.

He glances down and finds what he thought he felt. No panties.

Eyes flitting back up to you, he shakes his head. "You were gonna give in anyways," he accuses.

"Yeah, but you gave in first," you giggle.

A small growl rumbles in his chest, but he still leans in to pull your tank top up. He brings it across your stomach, letting your breasts fall free as he bunches the material above them. He cups the plump flesh, taking a look at the beauty he holds in his palms. You watch him in the fleeting interval in which you're forced to separate.

"So... since I win, what do I get?" you continue to gloat.

"My dick inside you," he answers as his fingers yank his zipper open and shove down his pants in a similar fashion to your shorts.

"But I'm gonna get that anyways. I think I should get a real prize," you say, aiming to stoke the flames higher.

Your hips get hauled closer across the grass, so fast that you're in danger of having green smeared across your skin.

"I don't think you'll be complaining in a few minutes, ya little brat," he mumbles.

His fist pumps over his cock as he lines it up between your legs. The leaky tip smears some precum over your folds before he slides inside. He groans as he sinks in, cherishing the feeling after the week of its absence.

You're quick to adjust to the stretch. With a sharp breath, your back arches off the grass. He had already snapped back and slammed in again. You knew he wouldn't be patient after being deprived of this. Watching him above you, your eyes study how his chest puffs in and out with harsh breaths. His strong arms extend down on either side of your head, his fists holding clumps of grass between them. 

It's a gorgeous view, but you know it can't beat the feeling.

"Closer..." you whine and grab at his shoulders, pulling him down so he's right on you and smothering your body against the turf, "Missed you, old man."

"How many times have I told you to quit it with that?" he asks as his pelvis begins setting a rhythm.

"Enough to know that I'm never gonna," you say. It's the last thing you can get out before moans shatter your plans to speak.

His warm flesh pounds against yours over and over. Your body rocks with the bounce of him on top of you. It feels so good. The world feels bright again, like you'd transitioned from an existence of black and white to living in color. It was so open out here but also so empty. Like you and him were the only two people on earth.

Your voice tapers off. Words become second to whimpers of pleasure. His hands grope the swell of your ass before returning to your sides for steady leverage.

"We'll have to work on that then," he grunts, "If you're not gonna stop, I'll just have to make sure you can't speak at all."

You preen at the idea, clutching at his muscular shoulders and back. He pants right next to your ear. Each stroke drives deep into you, brushing a spot that had ached for him to touch it again.

"Never wanna go that long again," you babble around whines.

"Me neither, baby. Think you were right. Not being able to feel this pretty little pussy every day almost killed me," he says.

A rush of euphoria flows through you upon hearing that. Your moans become more breathy, more full of need for him. You grab one of his wrists and tug his hand off your hip, pushing it in between your legs.

He knows what you want. His fingers apply some pressure and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. Immediately, he's rewarded with a whine out of you and a buck from your hips.

"Impatient," he huffs between a set of deep thrusts.

"I won," you retort, "I get to do what I want."

Even in the heat of the moment, he chuckles at your petulant tone. His hips keep rutting against you on the grass. He's sure his next task of yard-work will be covering the mysterious indents in the soil out here.

"I needa cum, Logan," you whine several seconds later, "So close."

"Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need to let it out after keeping it from me for so long?"

Your head bobs up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Please, please, please."

"Well, it's like you said. You won. So I think you can finish when you're ready."

"Mmmm- o- ok..." you whimper out.

Your hips roll up and down to reciprocate the fast pace of his own. He's battering right up against that special spot inside you that makes your mind blank and your eyes gloss up.

With a handful of whimpers, you cum. Your face scrunches as your cunt tightens around him. His fingers keep up the same rhythm on your clit, swirling around the little bud through your pleasure high.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Let it all out for daddy."

Your body seizes up at that command. Every cell of your being somehow knows to obey. You stumble over words and let them leave your lips half formed.

He keeps driving into you as you're coming down, chasing his own release. You're well into the territory of overstimulation now, all parts of you fizzling like a lit sparkler.  Your thighs quiver against his sides violently. They lock around his waist when you finally feel him slam in and drain himself.

A loud groan erupts from him. He makes no effort to restrain it given that only the two of you are here to hear it. He fucks it into you, ricocheting himself against your center a couple more times and letting every last drop pour into your dripping hole.

When he feels sated, at least for the moment, he reluctantly pulls out. He takes a couple deep breaths as he watches a bit of his cum ooze out of you. It didn't matter though. That wouldn't be the last load you took today.

His body topples over next to yours on the natural ground. You both lie there for a few moments catching your breath before you roll onto your side to look at him.

You just stare for a few moments. Your eyes roam along the shape of his face to the slope of his jaw and the curve of his chest. Leaning in, you kiss the space below his ear.

He responds to the touch by curling his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

His head turns to meet your loving gaze.

"I think we have some more time to make up for," he says.

You respond with an eager nod and hop up to your feet. Both of you pull on the basics of the clothes you'd been wearing before and rush back into the mansion, giggling as you stumble through the halls like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

The door to your room stays shut for the rest of the day. You spend the remaining hours you have enmeshed in each other; intertwined with him enough to recover from the lack you'd put yourself through.

Logan doesn't venture beyond the barrier of your shared sanctuary until the sun has gone down and darkness coats the halls of the mansion.  He walks quietly, taking his steps carefully to ensure none of the wooden planks beneath him creak.

All he had to do was go downstairs and grab you some water. In and out. Five minutes. But as he rounds the turn into the room, Scott's already there, looking through the fridge. He freezes and stands there awkwardly in his black tank top and loose sweatpants.

Having heard the sounds of his footsteps, the other man glances over at him. 

"There you are. Didn't see you around when I got back," he says simply.

Logan shrugs, trying to play it casual. He walks across the room toward the cupboard that holds the glasses. The other man's eyes follow him. He can feel that even through the scarlet shades on his face.

"Haven't seen your other half either," Scott continues.

Logan can tell from the tone of his voice where this is going. 

"Don't call her that," he scoffs, forever downplaying his attachment to you, "She's tired. She's upstairs sleeping."

"On her day off? I wonder what would have her so drained," Scott replies. His tone is flat in contrast to the little smirk on his face.

"Don't start," Logan says. He goes to the fridge to fill your cup with water. The trickle of the fluid is the only sound in the room until Scott keeps going.

"I didn't say anything," he says, raising his hands in surrender, "Only that this is the best mood you've been in all week."

"A couple hours without you around does wonders for me," Logan grumbles, wishing the liquid would pour a little faster.

"I'm sure. A couple hours with no one else around. Just the two of you after you've both been stiff the whole week," he taunts, "It's ok to admit you're whipped."

Finally, the cup is full. Logan takes it and turns away, holding one finger up as he walks from the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow, Scott."

"Yeah. Tell her if she's feeling sore, she can skip the early meeting," he says with a little laugh.