Thank U Chappel

thank u chappel

Me and the bad bitch i pulled by being autistic

— wip wednesday

sub!logan x dom!f!reader

@eupheme thank u for being just as impatient to see subby logan as i was to share it hehe!! (18+ mdni)

i am feral for this man im actually barking someone please restrain me... he's so babygirl in his little hoodie...

You smile, maybe a little meanly, your free hand squeezing his cheeks together. The other uses its grip in his hair to pull his head back farther, exposing the sweet column of his neck to your greedy eyes. He looks so pretty like this. If he hadn’t been so naughty, you would’ve told him as much. Instead, harsher words leave your lips. “Already so pussy drunk you forgot your rules, kitty cat?” You let your hand loosen its grip in his hair, the other still pressing into either cheek, forcing his gaze to yours. “You will make me come when I let you, hm? Can you handle that, darling, or do we need to stop?” The pet name is saccharine sweet on your tongue, mock sympathy dripping from your voice. “No ma’am,” he croaks out— words muffled by your grip on his face. You finally let go, the comforter plush against your skin as you lean back on your elbows. Nothing but the weight of your gaze keeping him frozen in place beneath you.

i need him so bad...

i know it's kinktober, so im not sure how much wip wednesday-ing is going on, so no pressure on the tags hehe @eupheme, @avocado-writing, @joelsgoldrush, @superhoeva, @logansbaby, @moonlight-prose, anybody who wants to share a wip!

image credit

your mind... this was so good and hot and sweet 😭😵‍💫🤍

There’s still the sharp pinch of the tie around his wrists. Still holding him at your mercy, a place that he puts himself willingly.

Eagerly.

He's always been yours.

im marrying him as we speak

k03. submission + restraints | in your hands

alfred pennyworth x f!reader

rated e - 2.7k

tags: sub!(and bossy)alfred vibes, use of alcohol, established relationship, references to stress/stress relief, restraints, teasing, oral sex (f rec), PiV, aftercare

When Alfred confesses he’s having trouble getting his mind off his work, you’re all too happy to lend a hand.

The Tower is dark when you get there.

Following the low hum of plucked jazz notes through the hall, until you find Alfred in his study - fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

Eyes screwed shut. His other hand grasping the rim of a half-drunk scotch.

You know he works hard. Too hard - have seen the dark shadows under his eyes. Your bed empty when you wake in the morning for far too many days in a row.

How much he does for Bruce. For you. Always putting himself last, as he works his knuckles to the bone.

Cracked and bleeding, and he still won’t say a word.

“Hi, baby,” Your voice is soft, from the doorway, “Long day?”

His eyes flutter open at the sound of your voice. Smile soft, as he sets the glass down on the side table, lined up neatly on the coaster.

“Something like that.”

You can see the weariness in his face, as you slip onto the seat next to him. Meeting into the press of your lips as you greet him, letting loose a long-held sigh.

“Glad to see you, darling.”

“Me too.” You smile, “Any way I can help?”

The look he gives you is soft, a hand dropping to squeeze against your thigh.

“I don’t think so, love. I need to step away, actually.” He sighs, “But I just can’t ever seem turn it off. For better or for worse.”

Thick fingers tap against his temple. You place a kiss there, and he leans into your touch with a stifled groan.

“Keep seeing things I need to do. Things I never have enough time for.”

Your lips brush his cheek, right at the edge where his stubble is scraped clean, “Think you need to rest. You’re pushing too hard.”

His eyebrows raise. Another sip of his drink. The soft smack of lips with him hum, something close to a half-hearted smile, “Think I’m far too old to be learning new tricks, darling.”

There’s a dozen instances on the tip of your tongue that would prove that statement wrong.

Instead, your head cocks - considering.

You’d been sitting on a partially-solved puzzle for weeks.

Something about the way Alfred’s posture had straightened when you first met, when Bruce assured you that butler would “see to your every need.”

The way his eyes dropped too quickly from yours, after - the blush that began at his ears, rose-petal pink. Caught and stamped down before it reached his cheeks.

Of course, it hadn’t meant anything - an acknowledgement to his role of seeing over the Manor.

But it had been there again - months later. The way his hips had flexed hard into the mattress as your fingers tugged on slicked-back curls.

The pleads for “more” and “harder” turning sharp as your orgasm had rushed towards you. His fingers pinching into your skin with your command, as he all but groaned into your messy cunt.

All too eager to please.

Maybe he just wanted - needed - a firm hand.

Maybe it could be yours.

You wish you had your own drink, to steel your nerves. A breath that you hold for a heartbeat, before your asking.

“I could do that for you.” It comes out hushed.

“Show you how to turn off.”

His eyes flick to yours. Silent consideration. Curiosity sparking, in the sharp chips of blue.

Not an outright denial, leading you to babble, “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before.”

The look in his eyes when you ride him. Head tipped back against the pillows. Unable to help bucking into you, fingers pinching hard enough to bruise. Handing over the reigns a little too eagerly.

Desperation edging into his tone, when he begs you to come for him.

That look simmers in his gaze, now. Head tilting towards yours, letting you close the gap. A soft hum when your mouth slants against his. Lips parting when your tongue licks at his lip.

A rough groan, when you deepen it.

Leaning into him, his torso twisting as your hands wander - a palm against his chest. The other at his jaw, feeling the way the tight tension in his neck loosens.

“Don’t have to do anything you don’t want, baby.” You murmur, against his lips - as if he wasn’t still deadly, sharpened steel wrapped in silk, “But if, if you want this-”

“Yes.” It’s hushed.

It’s permission - your eyes dark, hungry, when you lean back. A curve of your lips, almost surprised at how quickly he answers.

“You’re going to listen to me?” You clarify.

Alfred is a stubborn man. Cleverer than most. Set in his ways - used to being in charge, even if you can see through the cracks.

“Going to be good for me?”

His jaw grits. The heave of his chest against the tight vest. Your fingers still resting above his heart. There’s a jerk of his chin - you can feel it against your lips, as they press to his jaw.

“Words, Alfred.”

There’s a sharp inhale at his name. You rarely use it. Soft sentiments have worked their way into your vocabulary over the last few weeks. It slams into him, his voice going low and rough.

“Yes, darling.”

Heat curls inside you. A considering look, when you lean back. Fingers tracing over his neat uniform - that crisp, white shirt. The tidy vest. A black tie, fastened at his throat.

“Do you like this tie?” Your fingers hook around the knot, gently tugging, “I mean, would you be upset if I wrinkled it?”

Alfred fingers twitch. Torn between loosing it himself, and keeping his hands somewhere more interesting. Tracing along your legs, the curve of your hips.

“You may do as you like.” He husks, “With all of me.”

His words make your thighs press together. Already damp from his mouth against yours. Fingers working the fabric free, twisting around your fingers as you consider.

“Wrists together.”

He’s obedient, in the way they touch behind his back. A beat, before you bind him.

“You trust me?”

It’s a loaded question. The amount of times Alfred has allowed himself to be vulnerable in the years after he became Bruce’s guardian could be counted on one hand.

His voice is low, rough, as he answers.

“Always.”

There’s the flex of his muscles as you twine the tie around. You can hear his inhale - swallowing words down twice. Lips curving, so certain he’s prepared to offer his thoughts.

Advice on how to tie better knots - ones to properly restrain him - instead of the pretty ones you make.

Thinking better of it, for you.

He shivers, when your lips press against his bound wrists. When you loop the ends into a bow, tugging them straight.

“Pretty.” You hum, leaning back.

Already thinking of some improvements. Admiring the pulled-back flex of his shoulders. The dark glitter of his eyes, below the severe brow.

“Bedroom, I think.”

There’s a divan at the foot of the bed that you’re already picturing a use for,

He follows, allowing your hand to rest on his arm for balance. Testing the bindings with your fingertips, as he follows you through the conjoined door, into his room.

There’s a folded blanket on the arm that you lay out in front of the couch. He kneels without asking, and it sends a thrill up your spine. Settling yourself in front of him on the cushion, legs spreading on either side of his hips.

“I want your mouth on me.” You tell him, trying to set the tone.

The edge of his lips pull up, “You’re wearing a bit too much for that, darling.”

“Already talking back?” Your brow arches, “I thought a good little solider like you would want to listen.”

His eye darken, focused on how you work the sweater from your shoulders. Folding it slowly, setting it beside you on the couch.

“Haven’t been a solider in a long time.”

“A butler, then.” You coo - his eyes fixed on your chest. Tracing the pretty lace as he waits. The slight crease in his brow when your fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings, instead.

“You’ll tend to my every need, right? It’s your duty, after all.”

He can see where the fabric dampens between your thighs. No answer, except for the rough exhale of his breath. The flex of his shoulders, a reminder that he can’t touch you the way he wants.

Those eyes greedy, when you lean forward to work on him next. Carefully unfastening his vest. Working each mother of pearl button loose, until his shirt hangs open at his chest.

Hips shifting, when you loosen his belt. Leaning into the way you palm him. Not expecting how hard he is already, straining against the expensive trousers.

A stifled groan as you work him free. Letting his cock rest against the pushed down fabric of his boxers, cradled in the deep dip of the open zipper.

Exposed, to your view.

“There we go,” You hum, voice low. Admiring.

A finger traces along his shaft, his cock bobbing beneath your touch. His jaw gritting, to bite back a plea as you settle back against the couch. Your panties tugged down your thighs, laid on top of the pile of clothing where he can see them.

Alfred leans forward when you finally rest against the back, but your hand presses against his shoulder.

“Impatient,” Your tongue clicks. Fingers catching his chin, thumb smoothing across his beard.

Two fingers against his lower lip, with the twist of your hand.

“Open.”

His lips part automatically. A rough groan buzzes against the pads of your fingers. You don’t even have to tell him to suck - his eyes already closed. Another shift of his hips, rutting into air.

The pinch of teeth when you withdraw, as if to keep you for another moment. Another rough sound, when you fit those fingers between your thighs, instead of letting him taste you like he wants.

Biting back a soft sigh, as your fingers circle against slick flesh. Thighs inching wider as he shifts closer.

“You’re teasing me?” He husks, eyes narrowing.

“Distracting you.” You hum, “Are you thinking about work?”

He groans - a sharp, sideways jerk of his chin.

“Thinking about your pretty cunt, darling.” It’s almost a growl, ”You said you wanted my mouth, yes?”

Your hips lift into your touch.

“Then let me use it.” He coaxes, that rough edge pitching into need.

A beat, as you consider. The slow shift of your hips, as you angle them at the edge of the couch. He’s already leaning forward - your foot lifting to press against his thigh to halt him.

“I want you in me after,” You tell him, “So you don’t get to come until I say.”

He moans, and the second your foot shifts his head so he can tongue at your clit. Something ragged mumbled out - a “thank you” that’s drowned out by your own cry.

Open-mouthed kisses pressed against your pussy. Devouring you greedily, making up for the lack of his fingers with the way his tongue dips inside you.

Groaning into you, when he tastes how wet you are.

Unable to help the flex of his hips. Panting, when your fingers twist into his hair. Mussing the tidy strands, when you guide him to where you need.

You know what it’s like - his effect on you, how you’re putty in his hands.

How he leans into yours now, unaware of the way his cock drools. The string that drips from him, how his length jerks each time your fingers tighten in his hair.

But you notice. You see how far gone he is. The pretty haze in his eyes.

“You close already, baby?” You coo, “Want me to touch you?”

“No,” His chest heaves, as he draws back for a breath, “Don’t deserve it, need to make you come first.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to argue. To tell him that he deserves that, and more. That you’d give him everything.

But you think he must need this.

An edge creeps into your tone, soft and commanding.

“Then make me come.”

Your words shoot through him. A ragged groan when your thigh hooks over his shoulder.

All his attention narrowing down to the flick of his tongue against your clit. To the sound of your breath, every little hitch of your hips. Everything that tells him what you need.

Knowing just how to bring you over the edge. Leaning into the words that slide from you, the praise slipping over his skin.

“Fuck, right there.” You whine, “Gonna make me come, baby. So good for me-”

He keeps the exact pace you need - your breath growing short, as your orgasm crashes over you.

Riding the high of doing this for him. His sweet submission, that eagerness that rolls off him in waves. That knowledge that if you hadn’t told him not to, he would have spilled all over the floor some time ago.

The bliss courses through you, hips bucking into his tongue. Alfred doesn’t stop, until your hands find his jaw, gently easing him from you. The pleasure still throbbing deep inside - almost aching from the way he drew it out.

He has been good.

Intent on pleasing you. Needing it, but every man has his limits, and this is his - tasting you, while being bound like this.

Trying so hard to hold himself back. To listen, to ignore that deep clench in his belly. That urge to shift forward, to rut himself against the fabric of the couch until he’s spilling against him.

He can taste you on his lips. You’re smeared across his chin, against the dark bristles of his beard.

“That was so good, honey.” It comes out breathless. His lips part with the praise, knees pressing into the blanket as his thighs shift wider.

“Come here.” You coo - fingers against his chin again.

Drawing him up to you, your mouth meeting his as he kneels. Tugging him closer, “Wanna feel you come for me. You can do that, right?”

His moan comes out ragged.

You have to guide him into you. Reaching between down to line him up - he sinks into you the second he feels the tight clutch of your pussy around him.

Losing himself, in the way his hips jerk forward. Pushing himself deep, hips pumping as his arms strain against the binding.

Unable to touch you the way he’d like, and it drives him mad - head bowed as he watches the way you take him, again and again.

Could try to make you come again, and he wants to - that urge burning through him. Almost begging you in hushed tones, wanting to feel you one last time.

“Make it up to me later.” You tell him, and when your leg hooks around his hip to drive him deeper - that last bit of control slips through his fingers.

He’s coming with a ragged moan on his next thrust. Pleasure still ripples inside you - and the way he comes undone so quickly send another wave rushing through you.

His hips stuttering as his muscles string tight. Lips parted, grunting as he throbs inside you. The stress sloughing off, the pleasure turning him mindless.

Only aware of the tight, warm grip of your pussy around him. The sloppy drive of his cock, as his thrusts grow shallow. Trying to keep himself buried deep as he comes.

There’s still the sharp pinch of the tie around his wrists. Still holding him at your mercy, a place that he puts himself willingly.

Eagerly.

He’s always been yours.

Alfred is boneless against you. Lips parted as he pants, a warning sound when you try to slip free.

You stay another minute - pressed full of him. Kisses pressed to his cheek, his temple, as your hands slip behind. Loosening that knot.

Guiding him onto the bed when he finally lets you rise. Carefully tugging off his clothes.

Smoothing lotion onto his wrists - he’ll have to keep his sleeves rolled down tomorrow, with how hard he tugged on his bindings.

Lips pressing against his pulse, his limbs still limp in your grasp.

“Still worrying about work?” You ask softly.

He stirs then. A low chuckle.

“Actually,” There’s the curve of lips, a tired smile.

“I’m not thinking about anything at all.”

thank you for reading! 💖

oh um holy shit okay i need a moment to gather my thoughts this was so good 😭🤍

The brilliance of you blinded him—warmed every cold aspect that resided in the depths of his chest. Yet he'd rather spend the rest of his life in your fierce heat than suffer in the biting cold again.

Oh how lucky he felt just getting the chance to burn.

your prose is always so beautiful but this? this took me OUT!! need that last bit tattooed on my brain

"Don't get quiet on me now." His lips trailed along your cheek as he notched himself at your entrance. "Go on and sing for me sweetheart."

i... need him bad 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫🤍

He thrived off it. The sight of you whittled down to nothing but a needy mess, begging for a small hint of his love. Maybe that made him an old man far too fucking dirty to be with someone as prescious at you. But he'd let the guilt eat him alive later. He'd worry about stealing your youth out from under you in the afterglow of feeling you cum.

i love this dirty old man I LOVE HIM!!

"Where do ya think you're goin'?" he growled, repeating the move with a bitten out groan. "Thought you wanted me to fuck you. Now you're running?"

idk what to say this is just so hot i need to be her

and the ending??? THE ENDING!!! 😭🤍

thank you for your service i will be thinking about this fic forever save me old man!cowboy!logan SAVE ME 😵‍💫🤍🤠

WONDERING WHY

a/n: this is for the logan promptober hosted by the lovely @silverskyeline! i'm not gonna do the whole list cause i would stress myself out to an insane degree. but a few caught my eye. so i've thrown together some small fics for the man himself in the hopes of scattering them throughout october. this is also late one day cause of well me having a shitty time in life rn. but i hope y'all enjoy!

logan promptober: day six - cowboy

summary: loving logan howlett felt like loving a ghost. he returned when the moon hung low in the sky and his time gave way for freedom. but when you needed him most, he arrived on your doorstep with the promise of giving you exactly what you want.

word count: 3.5k+

pairing: cowboy!old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI IT'S 18+ ONLY, romance, love, angst, longing, pining, they're obsessed with each other, filthy kissing, p in v sex, rough sex, spit, choking (sorta), calling the pussy her/she, he's an old man who fucks insanely well, feral old man logan.

Pale moonlight brushed across the Earth with strokes of paint. Stars were sprinkled along the night sky, glimmering in darkness as you leaned against the doorway of your home. The lantern flame flickered with each waft of cool air that breezed past you. Pooling inside where a fire cracked and sparked—offering enough warmth to keep you sated for the remainder of time.

At least until he returned home.

You listened for the familiar clop of hooves, the click of his tongue guiding the horse where to go. Hoping that eventually he’d turn the bend in the dirt road and find his way back to the safety of your shared bed.

This was a routine you knew well—one you found solace in as the days grew short and sunlight became sparse. In summer he often returned when the clock struck midnight; the weariness of a long day spent riding through towns and hunting with others was normal. If a little grueling. Although you never complained. You knew who he was when you met him—understood the ups and downs of what this relationship would be.

Logan wasn’t anything if true to his word right at the start. I’m not gonna be here every day sugar, but I’ll be here when you need me.

Eventually you’d have to blow out the lantern and amble back indoors. Calling it quits on yet another night spent alone. He didn’t like it when you were out past a certain time—raiders and hunters alike were more than willing to break in without remorse. Especially if they didn’t know who resided inside, who shared your bed on nights like tonight.

“I need you,” you sighed, shutting your eyes to the sight of an empty road.

They were empty words of hope strung together to make a wish on whatever star caught your eye. Rarely did they work. Although some nights you wondered if magic twined with your solemn prayer—summoning the man you so desperately wanted. It was wishful thinking, a well full of reverie you continuously drank from. Although maybe it was the poison that would one day cause you to drop dead. Maybe…Logan was a figment of all that you could never have.

He might not even exist.

Your eyes fluttered open, glancing up at the sky with anticipation of a falling star. The echo of hooves along dirt drew your attention from your nightly ritual—curiosity pulling you close and whispering promises of giving you everything you wanted. It was probably a stranger. Someone looking for an easy place to spend the night. Logan always told you to say no with a shotgun in your hands, and your body tensed in preparation to grab for the gun propped near the doorway.

Relief flooded your veins at the sight of a familiar dark brown leather coat, his hat tipped low enough to hide the eyes that loomed beneath—glinting with a darkness you'd only seen once or twice in your time together. Calloused and scarred hands gripped loosley at the reins as the horse trotted up the path—finding it's way home with ease.

There was a pull between the two of you. Insatiable and feral and strong enough to have him searching for you the second he drew closer to the house. Hazel eyes fatigued by the long trip back locked onto your form. Plush skin and curves hidden beneath layers of a dress you had yet to strip off.

You would leave that to him, knowing how much he enjoyed tugging at the strings of your corset—undoing the buttons to set you free.

"Gonna catch your fuckin' death," he muttered, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. You relished the sound, unable to stop your smile.

"I was waiting for you."

He huffed, wrapped the reins around the wooden fence he built steadily over the years—the leather bag on his saddle now strapped over his wide shoulder. "Shouldn't be waitin' on a man like me sugar."

"You always say that."

"And I'm always right."

"Would you prefer I wait on someone else?" you inquired, a challenge glinting in your eyes.

He bit back a growl, hand settling on your hip to drag you to the edge of the front step as he stepped to the one below. "Are you tryin' to tell me somethin'?"

The possession in his eyes made your heart race, your fingers digging into the soft leather permeated by the scent of cigars smoked in various saloons. He felt familiar, a home you didn't know could exist within another person. The house you two built resided in his heart; the missing piece you searched for on nights spent without him. But now you had it in your grasp—fitting it back into place with a sigh of bliss.

The picture of peace finally pressed itself to your soul, caressing a part of your love that left each time he mounted his horse—the promise of coming home on the tip of his tongue.

"I haven't found someone else yet, but I very well could-"

The rumble in his chest was layered with everything he'd never say with words. "Try it," he growled. "And I'll have to make a fuckin' graveyard out back."

Heat pooled rapidly into your stomach, elation fluttering through your heart. You knew an animal hid in the depths of his chest. Feral with claws and teeth that snapped at the thought of someone taking what was his. You'd never belong to someone else. You'd never want to. The echo of his words seared into your mind, a vow of forever etched into each vowel and consonant.

He was home. He was here. He was real.

"There's no one else," you murmured, leaning your forehead against his—lips brushing against his with each soft admission. "There could never be anyone else."

All that would go unspoken, all neither of you could say.

I love you. I'll love you forever. Whatever this is…it will only end when we're buried six feet under.

"Good," he replied gruffly. "Now give your old man a proper fuckin' welcome."

The smile you wore deepened as his warm hand cupped your cheek. His skin was dry from the leather and a few cuts were scattered here and there, but nothing could resemble this. The blooming heat that spread across your chest like the roots of an ancient tree. He held you with a tenderness that might have shocked you at first—the fear of harming you burning hot in his stomach.

But this was how he always touched you. With a love that couldn't be replaced. A promise soldified in the lines of his palm, fate driven and earthly bound, and yours forevermore.

Finding his lips beneath his hat, you let go of the breath held deep in your lungs. The taste of his cigars spread on your tongue. A familiar morsel of home you gravitated towards. Later in the evening—when you were both lethargic and naked and covered in all sorts of fluids—he'd puff on a brand new cigar. Giving you taste with lazy kisses and smiles traded in the dark of night.

"Missed you Logan," you mumbled, tongue sliding against his with a breathy moan. "I always miss you."

He chuckled, deep enough to vibrate against your chest—his hands sliding down to grip your waist. "You wanna show me how much?"

"You'd like that huh." Smiling into the kiss, you felt his teeth dig into your lips. He sucked it with a groan, fingers digging harshly into the layers of fabric.

"Mhm." His breath was harsh against your cheek, each kiss filled with a need to ravage what belonged to him. To prove he still held space in your heart. "Missed you every fuckin' day sugar."

You laughed, toying with the hair at the base of his skull—curling your fingers around it to tug him back. The moan he rewarded you with made saliva pool in your mouth. His eyes watched you, dazed with want, mouth parted and swollen from your kisses. And you burned the image of him in your mind.

"You wanna show me how much baby?" you breathed, brushing your lips to his with a teasing laugh.

A biting growl ripped from his throat. "Get inside before I take you out here."

"There's an idea."

The harsh slap to your hip dragged a peal of laughter out of your chest. Stumbling back, your hands yanking the hat off his heat and working the jacket down his arms, you kissed him as if you'd never get the chance to again. Wet and spit slicked. Until your teeth clashed together and his tongue was halfway down your throat. Each moan that dripped from his mouth into yours felt like a fucking reward.

A blissful reminder that you weren't alone; he stood before you, frenzied and aching to feel your skin on his.

Logan couldn't figure out how he wound up in this haven. A home, a lover that stole his breath with each look, and forever right on the horizon. Years spent alone only offered the promise of torment, of a life overflowing with an endless amount of pain.

But for some unknown reason, the sun that used to sear his skin now stood before him lighting the pathway home. The brilliance of you blinded him—warmed every cold aspect that resided in the depths of his chest. Yet he'd rather spend the rest of his life in your fierce heat than suffer in the biting cold again.

Oh how lucky he felt just getting the chance to burn.

Desire simmered sharply in the base of your stomach the further you got into the house—his teeth biting down to the column of your throat, fingers toying with the laces of your corest. He devoured you like a sweet thing to be had. A treat he rarely got to partake in tasting. And fuck if he wasn't going to take his time. You clawed at his shirt, pulling it up and off his body with a hoarse shout of glee—nails piercing the flesh of his shoulders as he yanked your leg around his hip.

He practically dragged you to the small bedroom, tearing off the clothing as he went with harsh snarls of want. You'd worry about mending the fabric later in the morning. Or perhaps the day after that. Given how you could feel the heft of his cock through his pants, pressing to your stomach with each small shift of your body.

"On the bed." The command was punctuated with a slap to your ass—a sharp bite against the skin of your collarbone drew a soft moan to the surface.

He tugged the front of your corset down, dropping to the ground with the remainder of your skirts. Baring yourself to Logan with a smile, you felt the emptiness slip down onto the wood of the bedroom floor. Expelling from your body with each panted breath and soft carress. He turned you inside out with the smallest of actions—the barest of touches.

The time he spent alone and wrapped in thoughts of you became all he lived off of. Your memory turned into the reason he stayed alive.

Unlike so much of his life he now held an answer to why he dragged himself home. Why he forced himself to keep going.

"Lemme see her." His hand wrapped around your leg, pulling open your thighs for him to catch a glimpse of what lay between.

You'd been dripping since he arrived. A sticky wet mess that begged for his attention. Logan salivated at the sight, his eyes zeroing in on the way you glistened for him. On any other night he'd sit you on his face in a quick attempt at gaining the close proximity he longed for when he was gone. Tonight served for a different want—a biting need that dug its teeth into his skin.

"She missed me huh," he mumbled, thumb sliding through your wet folds.

You moaned, breathy and restless. "She did baby."

"'M gonna give her what she needs."

"Logan," you sighed, hand outstretched for him to take. "Need you close."

Every nerve lit like a fuse when he gifted you with a full smile. "I will sugar. Lemme just look at ya first huh?"

With a nod you let your legs spread apart, arms draped above your head. The sight of you stole his breath, but you didn't fare any better. His skin scattered with scars you kissed a thousand times over still rendered you incapable of speaking. Hell you weren't even sure you'd taken a breath since he walked through the door.

Though his body was worn and his hair was graying, you couldn't deny he remained the most beautiful man you ever set your eyes on.

"Like what you're lookin' at?"

Your grin was lazy, eyes overflowing with a language Logan once thought he'd never learn yet now could be considered fluent in. Love.

"I really do," you whispered, sharing the secret with him. The words rarely spoken were shouted at the top of your lungs in each loving praise.

He shook them off when you first met him. Claimed they were false words to make yourself feel better about loving an animal who walked and talked like a human. Although, over time he allowed them to sink into his skin, bathe over his broken and weary soul.

They held him together like a ribbon tied through his soul, placed neatly in a bow on his heart.

His hand was swift in undoing his belt, pushing the remainder of his clothes off to join yours heaped on the floor. And you drank in the sight of the man you adored climbing over your body with a hungry gaze. Your heart flipped, grip sliding along his back as you welcomed him in between your legs—the heavy weight of his cock a warm press against your thigh.

"Welcome home." The smile melded into the kiss he placed on your lips, tongue sliding in the curve along your teeth, to taste every bit of you he could reach.

Bucking your hips into his, you dug your nails into his lower back in the hopes that he'd move. He swallowed your whine, spit trailing down your chin when he pulled back to catch his breath. Moving slowly never worked for you—entirely used to the man who broke you with the intent of putting you back together—and right now was no exception. The torment of not having him tore at your heart, put a splinter in the longing simply to crack you in two even further.

"Hold still," he grunted, his hand shoving your hips back onto the bed. "Movin' so fuckin' much I'm gonna have to tie you down."

Your gasp was wet—needy. "Please. Fuck please-"

"Right." His other hand slid up your torso to rest against the base of your throat—thumb running along the smooth skin that covered your racing pulse. "I forgot who you are, sugar. You'd like that huh?"

Teeth tore at your bottom lip, eyes glazed and pupils blown wide the longer he held you there. Anticipation fried your nerves with each second that passed. But Logan wasn't a cruel man. He knew what you ached for—what you'd give up everything for. The closeness of the man you loved; a chance to have his body, heart, and soul.

Gripping himself, he tapped his cock against your clit, sliding through your slick with a stunted moan. A smile bloomed across his lips at your responding moan—fire streaking down your spine, curling along your limbs. He could drive you to madness and yet you'd thank him each time.

You would be grateful for anything he gave you.

"Don't get quiet on me now." His lips trailed along your cheek as he notched himself at your entrance. "Go on and sing for me sweetheart."

He sunk in with a smooth thrust, stretching you with slickened pain and a hoarse moan against the shell of your ear. And you forgot how to breathe. The pinch of pain quickly dampened with the roll of his hips—the head of his cock pressing snugly against your walls. This is what you missed, what your body screamed for.

The potent euphoria that drowned you under its vicious waves.

"So tight," he grunted. "Guess she really did miss me."

"Logan-" Your head tipped back into the pillows, a loud moan breaking the silence that curled over your bodies like a blanket.

"There she is." Pulling back slightly, he slammed back into you, nearly shoving you up the bed. "My pretty little songbird."

Nothing held you back from the sounds he drew out of your mouth. Each one louder than the last. Until the room was filled with a symphony of your combined pleasure, the vulgar echo of skin slapping against skin and your slick dripping down onto the bed, became all you could think about.

He thrived off it. The sight of you whittled down to nothing but a needy mess, begging for a small hint of his love. Maybe that made him an old man far too fucking dirty to be with someone as prescious at you. But he'd let the guilt eat him alive later. He'd worry about stealing your youth out from under you in the afterglow of feeling you cum.

A harsh thrust that struck against the sensitive spongy part of your walls had your knees clamping around his hips—your fingers scratching at his back to get him to slow down. You needed a chance to breathe, to regain some sense. Logan merely smiled, his fingers tightening around your throat to drag your head up. His lips slotting against yours in a messy kiss.

"Where do ya think you're goin'?" he growled, repeating the move with a bitten out groan. "Thought you wanted me to fuck you. Now you're running?"

"T-Too much-"

The angle changed sharply and suddenly he was no longer grinding into you but fucking right on that spot. A sharp sob of his name only added fuel to the quickly forming flame, quickening his movements until you felt your entire body begin to grow taut.

Slick smeared on the inside of your thighs, sticky and warm and loud enough to make you dizzy each time you heard it. He panted into your mouth, using the hold on your throat as leverage to fuck you back onto his cock.

Logan didn't love softly. He couldn't. Brutality was all he was capable of giving you and like the sweetest angel you took it with a smile. You let him use you up until his name was all you could comprehend. The heady scent of his sweat filled your senses, the salty tang of his skin spread along your tongue as you bit into his shoulder—your teeth marring his already marked skin.

Eventually it would turn purple, fading quicker than usual, but he'd wear it with pride. His own trophy after tearing you apart beneath him.

"Gonna cum?" he asked, mouthing at your breast, moaning at the taste of your skin. "I can feel it."

You nodded frantically, body going taut with each slap of his hips on yours. "C-Can I?"

"So fuckin' polite," he groaned, sucking on your nipple before letting it loose with a pop. Spit dripping down to your stomach. "'Course you can sugar."

Tugging at his hair, you felt the tremble in your thighs spread to the rest of your body. His other hand slipped between your bodies, thumbing at your throbbing clit with a soft moan, dragging you right to the edge of a cliff. A sharp grind of his hips broke the dam within you, flooding you with a mind numbing bliss that scorched your skin.

You cried his name until your throat went raw, tears spilling hotly down your cheeks that he licked up with a smile. The fluttering of your walls dragged a hoarse shout from his chest, his teeth clamping down onto any part of he could reach. He followed you instantly, shoving his cock deep enough to hurt as he filled you with enough cum to spill out.

The echo of your breaths resounded off the wooden walls, his hand dipping down to smear his cum along the inside of your thighs. Coating you in his essence; claiming you with his scent that burned the inside of his nose.

"I did you know," you mumbled, kissing the newly formed bruise on his skin. "Miss you."

He sighed, his forehead dropping to yours. "I know sugar. I missed you too."

"Will you stay this time?"

A grin pulled at the corners of his lips, hips rolling into yours to pull another weak moan from those pretty lips he longed to kiss. "As long as ya want me."

The hesitancy clamped around your heart, filling your stomach with anxiety. You wanted to beg him to never leave again, to spend each moment in the safety of this house. But Logan had always been a ramblin man. He'd never stay in one place too long. Even if eventually he found his way back here, back in the safety of your home.

"Forever?" you breathed, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Logan's heart twisted at the sight. "Yeah sugar," he replied, dipping down to drag his lips along yours. "I like the sound of that.”

X-Men: First Class (2011) | Deadpool & Wolverine (2024)