Touch Starvedmarch X F!reader | Masterlist

— touch starved march x f!reader | masterlist

synopsis:

March was touch-starved. But he preferred the sting in his eyes when your face fell as he pulled away from you to the ache in his heart when he let himself hold you. At least, that’s how it was at first.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble in response to a request for more march smut, but i got a little bit carried away!

notes/warnings: smut below the cut (18+ only mdni), magically protected unprotected p i v, oral sex (f. receiving), come eating, slight angst, porn with feelings, happy ending

word count: 2.1k

When you first got together, March wasn’t much of a cuddler. He was touch starved, sure, and his hands were glued to your form during your couplings. Squeezing your breasts, your hips, your thighs as he moved inside you. Fingers tangled in their grip on your hair while he fucked you hard and deep. He could write that contact off as mere attraction. As casual sex. That wasn’t what he was afraid of.

But the feeling that bloomed deep in his chest when he held you after your trysts? That terrified him. So did the way his heart hammered within his ribcage as his eyes followed you down his street, your worn boots heavy against the stone as you marched towards him at his anvil. It used to annoy him, the way you seemed to stomp everywhere. You didn’t do it out of anger, but out of some childish carelessness that he didn’t understand.

“I wont hurt the stone, will I? I’m not that strong! It’s just how I walk!” you had told him one day, laughing. That annoyance had melted into a fondness that he didn’t want to acknowledge. He didn’t want to acknowledge the way his lips tugged upwards in a smile when he saw you tread softly across the grass of the town’s gardens, or as you carefully snaked your way through the fields on your farm as he watched you water the crops each morning.

He stood by the window, when he woke up in your farmhouse. He’d mumble something about being too tired to walk home as he lay in your bed the night before, turning his back to you before drifting off to the sound of your breathing. He’d wake up to a cold bed, padding across the wooden floor to admire you through panes of glass, head peeking out from behind your half-drawn curtains. Quickly darting back into cover whenever you turned towards the farmhouse.

March was touch-starved. But he preferred the sting in his eyes when your face fell as he pulled away from you to the ache in his heart when he let himself hold you. At least, that’s how it was at first.

During your first winter together, you huddled under his covers, warming up after the walk from your farm. You were shivering. He didn’t like the way your hands looked a little bloodless when you took off your mittens. So he warmed your freezing fingers with his own. He didn’t pull away when you pressed against the warmth of his body in his bed. Logically, he knew your chill wasn’t dangerous. The crisp air wasn’t cold enough to cause any real damage— the wind was just especially bad that day.

But as he saw you made weak with the cold, his headstrong farmer with the booming steps and the warm laugh that filled any room effortlessly, something uneasy bubbled within him. He realized there was something that scared him more than the love he felt for you (because he knew deep down that it was love). What scared him most was losing you.

And as much as you wanted him (he could tell you loved him too), he could see your hope waning day by day. Each time he turned his back to you as he fell asleep. Each time he grunted in greeting instead of pulling you into a tight hug and kissing every inch of skin he could reach. Each time he insisted you infuriated him more than anyone else he had ever met (that much was true, just not in the way you thought).

And he knew that someday you would leave him. You would find someone else. Maybe Hayden, maybe Celine. Maybe one of the other eligible singles in town. You’d find someone who would give you the affection you craved. The affection you deserved. The affection he was too much of a coward to give.

Maybe you’d even leave Mistria altogether. Erase him from your life completely. Your hope that he would ever want you as anything more than a warm body to lose himself in would fade altogether. Because you didn’t realize he hadn’t just lost himself in your body. He had also lost himself in your soul.

Maybe it was good that he was a coward. Because he was too terrified of losing you to let it happen.

That winter night, once your body was finally warm against his, he didn’t pull away from where he spooned you. He traced the curve where your hips dipped into your waist. He snaked his hand beneath your sweater as you breathed his name like a prayer. Like a prayer that you never thought he would answer. But his hand cupped your breast with a tenderness that was always absent before. You tried to hide your gasp at the touch.

He finally let himself to map your body with the care it deserved. His touch was less sex and more adoration. But that didn’t stop his cock from growing hard against your ass as you writhed back into him, his fingers almost ticklish against your skin.

He finally dipped his hand into your underwear, already damp. You were desperate for him, grinding against his palm.

“I don’t just love your body.” March’s voice was a whisper as his lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. “Love the rest of you, too.”

He didn’t let you answer before he slid a finger into your slick heat. His finger moved slowly at first, stretching you out at a languid pace. When he added a second, it slid in with ease. His other hand was nestled beneath you, holding tight across your front. Holding your back against his chest so there was no room between you.

“Let me get you ready, baby. Don’t wanna hurt you ever again.”

He kept stretching you out, moans falling from your lips until you found three words that had been straining to get out for minutes while he fucked you with his fingers.

“You love me?”

Your voice was coated in disbelief, in forbidden hope. He felt a dampness beneath his cheek, from where your tears had stained the pillow. He began to retract his fingers from you, pulling back so that you could face him. But you whined at the loss of contact.

“Don’t stop, March, please—” he could hear the tears in your voice before you looked behind you to meet his gaze.

March was stunned as he watched tears stain your cheeks. He wasn’t good with feelings. That was why he kept them in check, denied them, hid them. His stomach felt like it was in a free-fall. He had no clue why you were crying, but he used the edge of his palm to wipe your face, his blue sleeve made darker with your tears.

“A- are you okay?”

He cursed how weak he sounded. That he did this to you. He was trying to make things better between you. Now it seemed like he had only made them worse.

But you just smiled up at him, eyes still painting your cheeks with a glittering sheen.

“Never been better.”

Relief was like a balm. He finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

You turned your back to him again. But it wasn’t the same as what he did to you every night you shared a bed. You ground your ass against his crotch, his hard-on a little softer now from his misreading of the situation.

“Need you, March,” you whined, face half-pressed against the mattress for leverage.

The need in your voice sent blood straight back to his cock. It wasn’t long before he was inside you with his cock instead of his fingers. Both your clothes were discarded somewhere in the covers, your back pressed against his chest again. Your slickness welcomed him home, sliding against his glides in and out as he fucked you soft and slow. He didn’t need to thrust hard to find that spot that had you keening. He buried his face against your hair as you took each other lazily, your hips moving back to meet each languid thrust. You smelled like lilac and fresh snow.

He told himself you wouldn’t be able to hear the words if he said them into your hair. He knew that he was lying to himself. But that didn’t stop him from chanting muffled I love you’s like a mantra.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

His pace slowed so he could move himself on top of you. He repositioned his cock, desperate to feel your heat around him once again. His elbows rested on either side of your head so he could watch your every expression as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. No words left his lips now, like you had cast a spell that he didn’t want to break. So as he rolled his hips against yours, he drank in the sight of you to the sound of your wetness and his movements within it. To the sweet little moans you made while he pleasured you.

He wanted to see your face while you came on his cock. He moved one hand down, down, down, until he could rub soft circles against your clit. You bucked up into him, urging him faster, needing more. The pace of his finger matched that of his thrusts as he brought both of you closer to the edge. He became frantic, sloppy, hips stuttering inside you while you cried out his name. He felt you clench around him while you came, and he fucked you gently through your orgasm before snapping his hips hard against yours to chase his own release.

He felt your sweet walls against his cock, bare thanks to a contraception charm from Juniper and a clear health check-up from Valen. He loved feeling your skin against his, nothing separating him from the deepest parts of you. He finished inside you with a groan, fucking his spend deeper within you as he rode out his orgasm.

His lips found yours in a tender kiss before pulling away to trace them down your body. His tongue circled your nipple, sucking gently before moving farther down. When he finally reached your center, he licked long and slow through your folds, tasting the mix of your pleasure and his. He cleaned his mess from your hole, fucking you with his tongue before moving back up to lick and suck and kiss your clit. You came against his diligent mouth, fingers tangled in his hair like a vice.

Later, he pulled you to the bathroom connected to his bedroom, letting you sit on the toilet while he warmed up the shower for you both. He hadn’t bathed with you before. Just another closeness he didn’t allow himself. As he kissed you beneath the spray of his shower-head, he promised to never hold himself back from you again.

So, when the two of you climbed beneath his covers, skin fresh and soft from your shared shower, he didn’t pull away or turn his back. He fell asleep with your head resting against his chest, heart full with the knowledge you could hear its beat. And he hoped you knew that it beat only for you.

Before you both drifted off, he heard a mumbled “I love you, too.”

Once that barrier within him was broken, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. In public, it was casual affection, a hand on the small of your back, a quick peck on the cheek. In private, he wanted to be near you whether or not you were fucking, his skin yearning for the comfort of your own. You rolled your eyes when he insisted you share the same cushion on your yellow couch while you read him adventure novels, insisting that you were too far. But he caught the way you would smile as you scooted closer and leaned into him. The light from the hearth painting your hair in warmth as you shook your head slightly and scanned the page for where you had left off.

Your shared life sprouted in little moments like that, finding comfort in each other. He wasn’t sure if he deserved you or the happiness you brought him. But he was tired of fighting it. So his lips curved into a resigned grin, and he pulled you even closer.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it, please let me know in the replies or reblogs!! i've been writing more for logan recently, but you can have some march as a treat :-)

dividers by saradika-graphics!

the next deadpool movie should open with a montage of deadpool and wolverine doing merc work together set to chappell roan’s HOT TO GO!

this is very weird actually sorry

and this

poor peanut

PICK YOUR POISON

a/n: happy october my loves! this is the month i am fully in the spooky gothic vibes i refrain from shoving on my blog all year round. i've had the idea of logan with an immortal reader stuck in my head for quite some time. only this time it's gothic themed. i really love the little spooky world i've created for them. so i hope you enjoy!

summary: death meant nothing to someone steeped in it. a shovel remained propped next to your front door, a bag of grave dirt hung on a hook, and a collection of poison was stuffed in your cabinets. only when you arise in the vicinity of a lumberjack named logan, you're in for a rude awakening.

pairing: lumberjack!logan howlett x f!reader

each part has its own warnings, but this story as a whole is 18+ only!!

INSPO TAG

MAIN STORY

➻ atropa belladonna {COMING OCTOBER 1ST}

➻ baneberry {COMING SOON}

➻ foxglove

➻ bloodroot

BLURBS + ONESHOTS

AHH thank you so much!! i really appreciate your kind words!!! 😭🥺💕

— absolution

logan howlett x chubby!reader | part two of salvation | ao3

synopsis:

Logan would worship your body for hours if you’d let him. He can’t help but prolong your pleasure before finding his own. He once told you that it’s because you deserve it so much more than he does.

warnings: explicit (minors dni), worst!wolverine, fem!reader, body worship, unprotected piv, established relationship, domestic fluff, porn with feelings so many feelings

wordcount: 1.6k

notes: thank you so much for the response on salavation omg?? i kind of love playing with the idea of logan's self loathing manifesting itself in softness once you crack his hard exterior, and i played with that idea even more in this part! i hope you love it :')

You taste yourself as you share a languid kiss with Logan. He always said he was made to kill. As his calloused hand cups your breast, you know he was made for this. You feel his clothed bulge press against your wetness. You can feel how he wants you. And you’re sure he can smell how you need him. You moan into his lips.

“Logan, please—”

“Anything you need, angel.” Logan traces the planes of your face as he grinds softly into you. “I’d burn the fuckin’ world for you, y’know that?”

You arch your back into him.

“I’d never—” you whimper as he rubs against your clit just right. His motions and his admission have you writhing with want.

“I’d never ask you to,” Your answer comes out panted. His thumb trails across your lower lip.

“Mmm, baby.” Logan dips his head into the crook of your neck, his words ghosting along your skin. His hips still. “That’s why I love you.”

Your fingers find his cheek, urging him to look at you. He smells like cedar and cigar smoke and you.

In your months together, he has been slow to say those words out loud. He shows his love by learning your favorite drink. By being there the second you’re off work to walk you home. By bringing you pleasure you never even thought imaginable. Your heart beats like a caged bird inside your chest.

“I love you too, Lo.”

His smile could outshine the sun. You think that must be why he always keeps it hidden away. He pulls back, placing a hand on the lush folds of your belly. Butterflies flutter to life beneath his touch.

“Need you to fuck me now,” you whisper.

There is no command in your voice, but Logan moves like he’s bound to obey. He rises himself off you and makes quick work of his pajama pants and underwear. His gaze is heavy, eyes never leaving yours. Your body is cold without his warmth above it.

Logan settles atop you again, his cock pressed into the bedsheets as he leaves a trail of kisses across your thighs and tummy. You pull at his hair impatiently.

“Up here, Lo.”

He smiles to himself. Logan would worship your body for hours if you’d let him. He can’t help but prolong your pleasure before finding his own. He once told you that it’s because you deserve it so much more than he does.

Logan climbs back up so your faces are level, his body ever a hairs-breadth above your own. He loves how his cock rests against your sweet tummy. A sharp breath escapes your lips as he grinds against your core, feeling how slick you are for him.

Your nerves are on fire as he presses a finger inside you, curling it just right. You let out a needy whimper. You think your arousal mixed with how Logan absolutely salivated over your cunt, he doesn’t even need to prep you for his size. But the care he treats you with always takes your breath away. How could anyone ever feel let down by this man?

As his finger starts to move inside you, your walls flutter around it. He is already filling you up so perfectly but you need more.

Logan’s breath is hot on the shell of you ear, nipping and sucking on it as he fucks you with a single finger. Between nibbles, words fall from his lips.

“Love feeling you, baby. Can’t wait to be inside. Fuckin’ perfect for me. Don’t deserve you for a second.”

You want to protest, to tell him that he’s wrong. Want to say that he deserves everything you can give and more. But all that comes out is a whimper as his thumb strokes your clit and his finger pumps inside you.

He pulls you to the edge of your pleasure. Your climax builds and builds in your belly until your eyes roll back in your head and you cry his name like a mantra. When Logan pulls his finger out you feel yourself pulse around nothing.

“Need you inside, baby. Now.”

You’re practically begging but you don’t care. Logan hollows out his cheeks as he sucks his finger clean, savoring the taste of you.

“I know, pretty angel. Had to get you ready for me. Don’t wanna hurt you. Don’t ever wanna hurt you.”

“Won’t hurt me, Logan. You were made for me.”

Your breath hitches as he finally positions himself at your entrance. He holds the back of your head as he slowly pushes into you. He stretches you so deliciously, his cock brushing against that perfect spot as he finally sheaths himself to the hilt.

Logan is drunk on how your soft walls part just for him. His thrusts are languid, arm canted above your head so he can watch your pretty expressions while he fucks you. Your eyes flutter shut, and you are lost in the moment as he takes you soft and deep. Your tighten around him, and Logan feels it deep in his core. He knows if he was a lesser man, in this moment, he would chase his own climax. But somehow, you have made a good man out of the worst Wolverine. Your pleasure is his penance. You are his absolution. With every release, you wipe away his sins so he can begin again. His pace remains tender. His body is a vessel bringing you ever closer to the precipice for the third time tonight.

Your body is alight as you reach your peak. Your whimpers are the sweetest music to Logan as you come undone on his cock. His hand works at your breast as he gently fucks you through your orgasm.

“Logan, baby.” Your hand cups his jaw, rough stubble prickling beneath your touch. His hips continue their lazy rhythm, and you want to be joined like this forever. “Feels so good,” you whisper. “So good.”

After years of insults hurled and glares thrown like daggers, your praise sends shivers down his spine. He just hopes he deserves it.

Your arms wrap around his chiseled shoulders, the softness of your form so different to his. He loves feeling you against him like this, every curve like a song as he makes love to you.

“You’re perfect, baby. You’re everything. Everything,” Logan breaths. He is never so soft as he is with you beneath him. You sand down every rough edge until he is the man he knows you deserve.

Your fingers snake their way into his hair, pulling ever so slightly.

“Come for me, Lo. Want it inside. Please.”

Who am I to deny a goddess?

His pace quickens and his breath ghosts across your skin. Your fingers map each muscle on his back, each scar. Electricity ignites beneath your touch until it’s too much, it’s too much and Logan finally lets go. His pumps slow as he spills inside you, your name leaving his lips in a wild pant. He savors how he is a part of you now, in his own small way, his soul entwined with your own.

His hips finally still. Lips steal yours in a ginger kiss before he pulls himself out of you. Easing down beside you, he coaxes you to lay atop his chest. Your plush form feels so perfect laying atop him, molding to him. He loves how soft you are. Loves this closeness, this intimacy. Sex was never so spiritual, so emotional for him—until he was buried deep inside you. From that moment on, he was bound to you.

Your hand traces the veins on his own until he lifts your joined palms and stares. In the back of his mind, he knows you’d look real sweet with a ring on your finger. But he’ll sort through that realization later. For now, he savors this moment with you, his happy ending. He brings your hand to rest atop his heart.

“This belongs to you, Princess. It all belongs to you.” He murmurs as you feel his heartbeat beneath your touch.

You laugh a little, head resting against his chest.

“If everything belongs to me, I think that makes me Queen.”

“You’re more’n a queen to me, sweetheart. You’re divine.”

You press a soft kiss to his chest before laying your head back down to listen to his heartbeat. He can feel your cheek heat where it is pressed to his chest. A swell of pride, that he can do that to you even when he doesn’t have his mouth or his cock buried between your legs. His hand finds your hair in a tender caress.

“Want this forever, Lo,” you muse aloud.

He still can’t believe that out of everyone in the world, you’d choose a fuck-up like him. The worst Wolverine. But damn, if he isn’t happy you do. He’d die before he left your side.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

a/n: i'm so weak for logan it makes me look STUPID!! please let me know what you think EEE i so hope i did this idea justice!! and apologies for getting carried away with the prose let me live my madeline miller dreams tyvm

writing this was such a practice in self love! i hope this fic made you love your body a little more, bc i know it did that for me! :') i also ALWAYS intend to write inclusively for readers of color, so please please let me know if you came across any language that didn't feel that way!

lovely divider by saradika-graphics!

hi hi hi!! i love the way you write march, his dialogue is so in character! could we get some more smutty march? :,)

hihi! i meant this to be a drabble, but it turned into a full oneshot. this fic is dedicated to you!

obsessed with the idea of march feeling emotions and freaking tf out, so that is what inspired me for this fic! i hope you like it!