Scheduled Post - Tumblr Posts
As Long As It Takes
Masterlist
AO3 link
Rating: Mature
Tags: Silco x gn!reader, soft Silco, depression, grief, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort
Word count: 705
Beta Readers: none. we die like my will to do anything
Silco notices that you've been off. He comes to quietly reassure you as you rest.
A/N: Sorry for the absence. Let's just say the reader in this one-shot is semi-autobiographical. This one's short enough that I'm just going to post the whole thing here.
You've been sleeping a lot more.
You tell yourself it's just from overworking. That it's natural for you to sleep more when you're this drained. You're working longer, harder hours.
But you know that isn't it.
You nap more frequently, for longer periods of time.
You go to bed sooner.
Wake up later.
It's becoming a pattern.
And despite your best efforts to hide it, Silco—your partner—has noticed.
You're in his room, on his bed. The bed you've shared together since you started seeing each other. You still have your own apartment, but you stay at The Last Drop more often than not.
This is where he finds you, laying on your side, your back to the door.
You hear the soft creak of the door’s hinges before a gentle, booted footstep. Then, another step before the door closes.
Silco says your name, voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake you if you're still asleep.
Your fingers cling to the pillow as you close your eyes, pretending to sleep.
There's more footsteps as your partner makes his way around the bed, followed by the mattress groaning as he sits. You feel his weight sinking the bed next to you and keep your eyes closed.
Gently, he places his palm on your hip before letting out a deep exhale.
“I won't pretend to know exactly what's going on,” he starts, “Nor that I have all the answers.”
You keep your eyes closed, focusing on his voice.
“But I know something is wrong,” he continues. “Don't think I haven't noticed—the way you retreat here immediately after your shift. The way you've stopped going out.”
He lets out another sigh. When he speaks, his voice seems a little further away, like he's turned his face away from you to look at the wall.
“I could lie to you: tell you it'll get better. But the truth is… sometimes it doesn't.”
Your lips pinch into a line as you feel a familiar sting growing behind your eyes.
“It never really goes away. Grief. Depression. We don't… conquer it, so much as learn to live with it.”
You hear him shift and feel his gaze on your face without seeing it.
“But just know—you don't have to go through this alone. I'll be here to listen when you're ready.”
The both of you stay like this for a moment. You, laying on your side, eyes resolutely shut. Silco, with his hand resting on your hip, mismatched eyes tracking across your face.
After a beat, the mattress squeaks as his weight leaves it. You feel his hand start to leave you and, in an instant, give yourself away as you grab his wrist.
He gives a small startled sound and you turn to look up at him.
“Please don't go,” you whisper, a tear forcing its way past your defenses. “Please stay.”
He looks at you with gentle eyes and gives you a small nod before sitting back down. As he does, both your hands move, fingers lacing together.
Your throat bobs and your eyes turn down, looking at the sheets to avoid his gaze.
“I'm not ready.”
When you dare look up at him, he answers by simply shaking his head.
“It's okay.”
He leans down and brings his scarred lips to your temple. You melt a little into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the warm contact. When he pulls away, it's a mere inch, his breath still in your hair as he whispers.
“I'll wait as long as it takes.”
You pinch your lips together, eyes still closed tight as you nod.
At that, Silco shifts to move behind you. He maneuvers his way under the sheets, his arm wrapping around your waist. You feel him slot himself behind you, his chest pressed into your back as his legs perfectly fit behind yours. You cling to his arm, pulling him closer.
He buries his face in your neck, taking in a deep breath before kissing you gently there.
And as you both drift off to sleep, you feel just a little bit more hopeful.
Maybe tomorrow will be a little bit better.
How bad could it really be?
When you have Silco?
Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon
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❥ SPECIAL POST : HAPPY BIRTHDAY ENA !
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 ✧ 𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐞 .
𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 ✧ 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 , 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 .
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✧ 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 ❢
𝐚/𝐧 ✧ 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 !! 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 , 𝐲𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐡𝐨 ✦
4/30 🎉 𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐞 . . .
The VIRTUAL SINGERS and Nightcord at 25 ( minus Ena ) were talking in the sekai, planning for Ena's birthday. Though Mafuyu wasn't much of a help, she did bring up the thought about making individual paintings, dedicated to Ena, thanking her for all her hardwork and wishing her a happy birthday.
The vocaloids ( especially LUKA ) , had wanted to join in on this happy event, so extra canvases, paint, paintbrushes, and food for a picnic were brought to the sekai early on.
It took a few hours, but a banner had been made for Ena, and 8 pieces of artwork were arranged on a large blanket ( composed of many small ones ) neatly, and the girls left the sekai, ready to join the call with Ena and surprise her.
"Happy birthday, Enanan!"
"Happy birthday, Ena."
"Happy birthday."
"Thanks everyone! ✰"
"Could you follow us to the sekai?"
"The sekai? Wh-"
"Yah! Dont question it, okay?"
"We'll see you there."
Within a few minutes, Ena had clicked on the file, and as soon as the light cleared from her eyes, she saw a banner, food, a picnic, the happy birthday song ringing in her ears, and so many happy faces welcoming her.
She quickly thanked them and admired all the artwork that was made, and everyone enjoying a memorable picnic full of jokes and laughter.
Ena went to bed that night feeling overjoyed at the thought of going over everything today, until she checked her phone to see Akito had posted embarrassing photos of her with the caption "happy birthday to the weirdest older sister ever".
She's never headed to his room so quick.
𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 !
character(s) ♡ vivid bad squad
type ♡ special post !
warning(s) ♡ none
a/n ♡ from 51 votes , vbs was chosen ! ! i dont know if theyre ooc or not , so my apologies if so ~ ! a very merry christmas from me to you , happy holidays ✰ xoxo , ena
vivid bad squad . . . ビビバス
Opening your eyes in the Sekai , you were met with mugs filled with hot cocoa and marshmallows , candy canes , chocolate covered pretzel sticks , and the smell of christmas spirit ~ !
" Okay, okay. My turn to open my Secret Santa gift! " An said , hastily grabbing her present as Kohane giggled and Toya smiled , with Akito zooming in on her face with a camera .
As she unboxed her gift , she held up a gigantic mug , examining it with owlish eyes , turning it around to see her name imprinted on it .
" Ooh~! This is actually really cool-! Who got me this? "
Kohane began to giggle as An beamed at her .
" That'd have to be me. I was a little unsure of what to get for you, so I'm glad you like it! " Kohane replied, softly clapping her hands .
Akito soon reached for the circular shaped present with his name on it , looking up at everyone .
" Alright, I'll go next. This better not be something stupid. "
The second he began to unwrap his gift , everyone was waiting in anticipation for what it could be .
Akito's eyebrows raised before he smiled , raising up the different types of cheesecake on a platter .
" Hey, not bad! Not disappointed one bit. "
An began to giggle , making a fist pump .
" You can never go wrong in giving him cheesecake. Its an assured positive reaction. " She shrugged as Akito playfilly rolled his eyes .
Kohane gave a close-eyed smile , gesturing toward the 2 presents sitting on the table .
" You go ahead Toya! " " Oh, thank you. "
Toya picked up his present and brought it in his lap , shaking it and feeling something slightly heavy inside , quickly glancing at his bandmates .
" Dont shake it silly! It might give away whats inside~! "
Toya smiled , shaking his head before silently unwrapping his gift , bringing out a book with bookmarks to highlight page numbers .
" Thats the book you've been mentioning you wanted to read, right? You always ask me what I think about certain pages and lines, so I highlighted my favorite parts. Whats the word-.. annotating, was it? I did that. "
Toya nodded , smiling gratefully . " You're right. I have been wanting to read this. This is-.. really kind, Akito. Thank you. The annotations are a nice touch. I appreciate it. "
Akito smiled and nodded in acknowledgement as Kohane piped up .
" Oh! So this means Toya got my gift! Lets see-.. oh! It feels warm. "
Kohane smiled , picking up her present and unwrapping it , a familiar aroma radiating off of it .
" This smells like-.. "
She opens her box to reveal newly made peach buns .
" I love peach buns! I cant wait to savor these~! Thank you so much, Toya! " " Im glad you can enjoy them. "
The rest of the night were full of games , shouting christmas songs , and lots , lots , and lots of christmas joy .
" merry christmas to all ~ . . and to all , a good night . "
and how convenient ! !
ahaha !
i'm just a girl, i'm just a girl
bonus:
stranger things s4 vol 2 + text posts
the piggyback edition
I don't know who needs to hear this but your brain is lying to you and you don't need to wait until there's a round number on the clock to go the fuck to bed or start that project or eat a meal.
Get up and do it now.
Happy Valentine's Day! Have more of the immortal triangle crack ship. I like to think that YV is just a genuinely nice guy to his loved ones and Bill doesn't at all deserve him. I've got a lot of headcanons actually feel free to send me an ask if you wanna know more or have any burning questions ;) ;) ;)
And yes that is the actual surface of Venus. I think it's beautiful and Bill needs to stop drinking so much haterade 🙄
as much as i love the beef, here is a kind of take i have not seen here yet
Some quick tips to spotting accounts that are pretending to be a Palestinian needing mutual aid. Please keep in mind that not all of them are scam accounts, and that some may legitimate blogs who just aren’t too knowledgeable on how tumblr works. This guide is based around what I go by when checking certain blogs and usually it’s a quick giveaway the blog is a scam.
1. You was sent the ask as someone who regularly shares Palestine related content such as regular news updates of posts by other Palestinians who are regularly giving updates. You may also get these asks from sharing a popular post that is from the Palestine tag. If you post often about Palestine, you will always start getting these asks. These askers don’t care if you state don’t send the asks. They will anyway. Unfortunately minors also get sent asks.
2. The ask has odd formatting such as having odd quotation marks in it or unusual formatting that may indicate it’s been edited and copied from somewhere else. Often the ask is the same thing as the post itself minus a link to a donation site. These asks rarely change so searching it should pull up if it’s been sent to other bloggers and sometimes the asks are edited only to add new phrases to them in time.
3. The account is almost always a few days old or a week old or long depending on how often they have sent asks. Usually some may even be an hour old and reusing a familiar pfp/ask.
4. The blog has a few Palestine related posts or posts from random tags reblogged to pad out length and then no more. They will have no original posts besides the pinned post while occasionally answering asks that they may have received but otherwise nothing else and no further updates given either.
5. They may have a Linktree link that is called “GoFundMe” as if indicating they have a GoFundMe there. However, they don’t. When clicked on, the Linktree actually goes to a PayPal account whose name may not even match the one their supposed name is. They’ll say it’s a friend, but it’s just the same person not someone else. You’ll see this same name across multiple accounts after a while usually giving away it’s not legitimate even under a different theme.
6. The text used by the blogs are often real stories stolen from legitimate fundraisers and searching parts of it in your preferred search engine should pull up the sources. These sources make no mention of a tumblr account either or don’t have the PayPal account associated with them in the info. Scammers often impersonate a real person in need and will ignore you if you show them the source they copied from.
7. Legitimate Palestinians often link to their own GoFundMe posts that their friends have set up or post links to other social platforms they are found on. They will regularly post updates when possible, post sources to support them when necessary, and also generally have some method of verifying their legitimacy. They may often share links to support others as well or give links to charities that have been shown as reliable. They will have more original posts than just a single pinned one and regularly speak to other tumblr accounts beyond just an ask. Please don’t bother them with asks about possible scam accounts. There are many guides out there that can do that for you if you search. You may find verified fundraisers too.
8. Scammers don’t know anything about Palestine and will often have trouble once you ask them anything beyond the mutual aid post. They don’t know the languages decently and you can tell it pretty easily if you’re one who uses it regularly. Whatever the scammers use is often just copied off the site they got the post from. Sometimes the text is just reused from past scams such as asking for insulin that doesn’t last long.
9. These scammers can and will use names stolen off real Palestinians to look more legitimate and trustworthy. They change names constantly once one of their PayPal accounts is shut down.
10. If you do see a GoFundMe link on a blog, don’t immediately assume it’s a scam just because it’s a relatively new account. Check the post notes to see if anyone’s verified the account yet or wait a bit as it takes time. You likely can search around to see if anyone’s posted anything where the blog has been vetted by others. You may also see if the GoFundMe is referred to on other socials or on lists that compile verified and vetted fundraisers.
Please don’t let these scams deter you from sending support where it needs to go. Even if you can’t donate personally, there are other ways to help. If you are sending money, please make sure that it’s going to where it’s needed and the place it’s sent has been verified accordingly. If you find a blog is a scammer, and have been able to prove it, please make sure to alert anyone sharing the post and report the account.
URGENT HELP 🚨
Hello, I'm Ola, a graduate student from the faculty of science - Al-Azhar University in Gaza Palestine. I truly appreciate you taking a moment to read my story. As you reading my message, myself and my family, “my mother, father, three sisters, and my little brother,” are fighting death in northern Gaza and trying to survive under all kinds of suffering including but not limited to destruction, fear, and instability, starvation, thirst, and poverty.
For nine months until now, we have been struggling to get proper food after prices increased by 15 to 20 times, struggling to have clean water for use and drinking. We lacked security and stability as we were forced to evacuate our house and left everything behind. Then we had to move at least three times since every new area we seek refuge to gets bombed.
I sincerely hope you can empathize with our dire situation and consider supporting us. You can follow me to make sure I am not a scammer and to inquire about any details. Your generosity has the power to make a significant difference.
Please reblog my post, follow me and boost my posts, and repost the link to our campaign across all your social media.
Thank you for standing by me ❤️.
Please donate and/or reblog 🥺🙏🇵🇸
@rinnie @sweetoothgirl @palestine @nabulsi @el-shab-hussein @northgazaupdates @sar-soor
WAAAH thank you friend 😭🤍 im blushing into my pillow kicking my feet fr, i had so much fun writing their dynamic and coming up with the details of reader's mutation hehehe im so glad you liked it 🥹
— guard dog
kinktober 01 → dom/sub dynamics
sub!logan x dom mutant fem!reader
synopsis
Nobody would believe how his masculine bravado fell as he let you take control. They didn’t notice how you could dismiss him with a nod of your head, how he would immediately back down from a fight if you told him to drop it. Like a dog with a bone. That’s the thing about Logan. He is protective like a guard dog is protective. And he is submissive like a guard dog is submissive. Oh, you so enjoy training him.
wordcount: 4k+
tags/warnings below the cut
tags/warnings: explicit (18+ mdni), dom/sub, light pain kink, light praise kink, porn with feelings, hurt/comfort, logan calls reader ma'am, reader wears a dress, pet names (incl. baby, pretty boy, kitty cat), degradation, oral sex (f. recieving), mutual mast., unprotected p i v, fingering, come eating, logan is compared to a guard dog (non-sexually), one (1) mention of collar play, no use of y/n. i'm sure i've forgotten something, please let me know if i have!
a/n: i have no excuse for this omfg. i'm a slut, ok!! and i am allergic to writing smut without including major feels what's up with that
thank you to the lovely @eupheme for looking over this before i posted!
You love seeing Logan like this. On his knees, eyes glazed over, beard drenched in your slick. Fingers tangled in his hair, hard grip pulling his head away from your cunt. You are bare beneath your dress, hiked up to your stomach, but Logan is completely naked. Looking down at him from where you sit on the edge of the bed, thighs spread wide. In complete control as he whines at the loss of his mouth on you, completely drunk on your taste. Candlelight and the Autumn twilight illuminating the planes of his face like liquid gold. Your core throbs where his tongue was just a moment ago.
You hush him, your free hand cupping his jaw. “You miss my pussy, baby?” Your brows knit together in mock pity at the desperate sound he makes in affirmation. He grinds feebly at the side of your mattress, neglected cock aching for something, anything. Maybe it says something bad about you, that you get off on seeing him so pathetic. But you know he craves this too.
He was embarrassed about it, at first. Being submissive. Getting hard when you called him your sweet baby, your pretty boy, voice dripping with condescension. But you could tell that he needed to unwind the second he woke up after you dragged him into the X-mansion with Jean and Scott. You could feel it, the emotions pouring from him.
Your mutation is a difficult thing to control. To turn off. Sometimes, you feel like a creep. A trespasser. Knowing the deepest emotions of a stranger, ones they may not even recognize themselves. You think Jean and Charles are lucky, with powers rooted in thought. They can tease out feelings too, but their power is fundamentally different from yours. Thought is intention. Emotions are energy.
“You can’t force your retinas to stop sensing photons just because the light bulb does not know you can see it. Even if you close your eyes, my dear, you will still be able to see its light, however dimmed.” Charles’ words from your first day at the mansion help to curb the guilt; when you feel like an intruder.
You certainly felt like an intruder months ago, when Logan woke up in the lab, lit aflame like a wildfire. Fear and rage, as he shot up from the table. Confusion, as he pulled the IV from his arm. Idiot. You tried to ground yourself in something tangible, anything, to keep yourself from feeling him. So much him. The buzz of the fluorescent bulbs. The vent blowing cool air against your skin. The weight of contact where your feet met the floor.
You taught mindfulness and meditation to the students and your teammates. Helped them to guard their emotions from people like you. For you, meditation was like closing your eyes. You could still sense those around you, it was just easier to tune out. Like hearing music through cotton in your ears. When others meditated, it was like switching off the light bulb. Leading students through exercises in your class was your favorite time of the day. Sweet silence enveloping you like an embrace from an old friend.
Later on that first day, when you introduced yourself to Logan properly, he grumbled, “Stay out of my head, bub.” His frustration butted against you like a battering ram. And you stood against it, the feeling piercing your heart just a little. Powers standing tall as a wall of stone as you told him that it wasn’t that simple. You wished they could have just crumbled. You couldn’t help but feel guilt eat away at you like it always did. You wouldn’t blame him if he hated you.
Over his first few weeks in the mansion, you taught him basic mindfulness in one-on-one sessions. He had trouble taking it seriously; thought it was silly. A bit out, “No way this’ll work, bub,” as you led him through meditation in the training room, sat cross-legged on the mat across from him. You told him to close his eyes, to focus on the feeling of his breaths. “Now you’re just makin’ fun’a me,” as you told him not to fight his emotions. After twenty minutes, you could still feel the anxiety gnawing at him. Just as bad as at the start of the session. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze met yours— bright hazel making your breath hitch. His fear and anger and self-loathing were banked for a moment, and you felt something else. Understanding. Desire. You weren’t sure if it was his, or yours. Maybe both. He ended up in your bed that night.
Your first few times were pretty vanilla. Him on top, pounding into you, sweat from his brow falling against your cheek. After a month of him fucking you into the mattress at least three times a week, he was still tense as he took you. On edge, knowing he was unguarded from your mutation. It wasn’t that the sex was bad. It was some of the best sex you’d ever had. But you could feel it, whether you wanted to or not. His anxiety. Curled up like a viper behind a bush, hiding just beneath his pleasure. Never fully letting go.
He didn’t even hold it against you, anymore. Your mutation. Knew how it felt to be hated for something you couldn’t control. Maybe that’s what had drawn him to you in the first place.
But when your nails scraped down the side of his bicep, barely even hard enough to leave a mark, you felt the rumble of his moan, deep in your chest. Couldn’t feel that viper anymore, lurking just below the surface. Like it was carried away in the beak of a hawk as you marked him. He begged.
“More.”
You shuddered. In control, after that. Flipping your position so he was on his back, body pliant beneath yours as you rode him. Your breath was hot against his ear when you leaned down, bare tits tender where they pressed against his chest, to whisper. “Gonna let me take care of you, baby? Gonna let go?”
Nobody would believe how his masculine bravado fell as he let you take control. From the outside, he seemed like the dominating personality in your relationship— undefined as it was. How his hand would reach in front of you protectively during missions, how he would bristle with a clenched fist if anybody talked a little too much shit during an exercise in the Danger Room. They didn’t notice how you could dismiss him with a nod of your head, how he would immediately back down from a fight if you told him to drop it. Like a dog with a bone.
That’s the thing about Logan. He is protective like a guard dog is protective. And he is submissive like a guard dog is submissive. Oh, you so enjoy training him.
And much as you tried to teach him to meditate over months since he arrived, empty his mind more conventionally, it never quite worked for him. But when he’s beneath you, eyes glazed over as you bounce up and down on his cock, and you can’t sense a single thing from his pretty little head? You know you’ve done your job well. Given him what he needs.
“Such a good boy, making me feel so nice,” you croon, in the moment again. He sat on the floor between your legs, eyes desperate and wanting when you thrust your hips up in the air just a little bit. Teasing him with the movement, more than yourself. Your hand is still tangled in his hair as he tries to lean forward to bury his face in your cunt again.
“Stay,” your voice is hard, careful that you don’t betray the fluttering in your belly at how badly he needs you. “I thought you were a good boy, but good boys follow orders.” You pout, mocking him.
“’M sorry, baby, just wanna make you feel good,” he pants, eyes
glistening in the dim light of the waning sun. Golden leaves rustling just outside the window. “Wanna make you come.”
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 on 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, comforter plush against your skin as you lean back on your elbows. Nothing but the weight of your gaze keeps him frozen in place beneath you. You wait for him to continue, expectantly.
“Don’t need’ta stop,” he pants. “Just need you.”
You love how the words fall from his lips. How he lets them. Tracing his jaw tenderly, the soft touch so at odds with the mean glint in your eye. So at odds with the swell of your heart, knowing he can let go with you.
“I know you do, baby.” Your thumb strokes his bottom lip, “Now ask nicely.”
“Please.” The way he begs has your core throbbing, the heat of your desire spreading down each limb like a flame. You almost give in. Almost.
But you can’t have him getting spoiled.
He knows he’s fucked when one side of your mouth lifts in a cruel smirk. You lean down so your lips brush against his ear. “I’ll let you lick my pussy clean after you fill it. If you’re good.”
He whines; the sound a desperate thing.
“Touch yourself, baby,” you guide as you tease your fingers at your entrance. Soaked, from your slick and from Logan’s mouth. Your first finger slides in easily, as Logan’s hand grips at his cock. He sighs at the stimulation, the relief, though you know he’d rather his face be buried between your legs. His tip is flushed, weeping. He ruts into his fist as your finger begins to move within you. Already so slick that you make room for a second.
Sparks light up inside your belly, already sensitive from Logan’s work, but your touch is nothing compared to his. Your fingers are smaller, not reaching nearly as deep as his would, when you curl them. But you savor the control— as you fuck yourself on the bed and Logan touches himself on the floor. Almost feral for you.
Locks of hair pulled from their little tufts where you mussed them, falling in front of his eyes. A bead of sweat glistens on his brow, before sliding down his cheek. His lips part; the sounds of his desire falling from them. Sweeter than any melody.
And your mutation? Couldn’t sense a damn thing. So blissed out that his mind went blank. Letting each sensation roll over his body like a wave against the sandy shore.
That’s the toughest part about this. Seeing him like this and maintaining your resolve, composure, control. To tease him instead of fucking him like an animal. And you will— fuck him like an animal. He just has to work for it first.
You spread your legs a little wider, pumping your fingers in and out. Using your thumb to circle your clit. Teasing Logan with what you wouldn’t let him taste. Yet. You draw out his little torture, watching you get yourself off, so close that your heady desire is all he can smell. Climbing closer and closer to the peak of your pleasure, eyes hooded as they meet Logan’s, letting the sounds of his panting fill the air until you finally come undone. Feeling terribly vulgar as your walls pulse around your fingers. Growing even slicker, then.
“Stop now, little prince.”
Logan stops moving like he is bound to your will. You smile. He doesn’t even talk back when you call him little. Four hundred pounds of muscle and adamantium wrapped around your finger. You bring your hand, wet with your arousal, to meet his lips.
“Open up.”
Logan lets his jaw slacken, his tongue jutting just above his lower lip to taste what you give him. You hum, as your fingers slide into his mouth and he hollows out his cheeks to suck. Your other hand moves to play with his hair, gentler now than it was before.
“Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?”
You think that the noise Logan makes is in affirmation. Your fingers remain between his closed lips.
“Gonna make you come now, baby.”
Logan bites back a moan, glossy eyes wild with need.
Fingers slip loose with a slick pop as you guide him up to the bed. You finally let your dress pool on the floor around your feet. Logan sits back against the headboard, flushed cock at attention. You climb atop him, hard muscles so at odds with his lolling head and hooded eyes. Feeling his length press against your belly as you admire the view. Such a pretty thing, sprawled out on your bed, waiting for you with a leaking cock.
“So needy. Need me to fuck you good, baby?” You ghost a touch across his sweat-slick forehead. “Need me to fuck all the thoughts out of this pretty little head?”
He nods. But no words escape his lips. You angle your head to the side, patient.
His voice is rough with desire as he croaks, “Yes, ma’am. Please.”
You feign confusion. “Please what, sweetheart?”
Swallowing his pride. “Fuck me, baby. Please”
You line up above him, palms resting on his toned chest, thick length prodding at your entrance.
“Mmm, only because you asked so nicely.”
You sink down on him in a quick, brutal thrust that steals your breath— his cock brushing that perfect spot your fingers couldn’t quite reach. Your mouth finds his neck, where your teeth nip and lips soothe. Inhaling his scent— cigar smoke and whiskey mingle with the musk of his sweat. Undertones of cedar from his shampoo as vanilla wafts from your candles. Your hips remain still, his tip nearly brushing your cervix, savoring the slick, sweet stretch. Logan lets out something between a growl and a whimper when you clench your walls around him, teasing.
His desperation finally spurs you on, lighting a sweet fire in your core. Angling your hips up before sinking down again. And again. Slow, at first. You let yourself enjoy his thick length dragging along your walls, stimulating that spongy spot that makes you see stars.
“Y’fill me up so good, baby.”
Logan’s muscles tense beneath you, eyes squeezed shut as he fights the urge to move his hips. Aching to meet you as you slowly pump, to rut up into you hard and fast. You click your tongue in admonishment as his eyebrows knit together.
“Eyes on me, sweet thing.”
His lips move, searching for his words, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. His hazel gaze meets your own, brow heavy with the effort you know it takes to follow your rules. Your mutation still can’t sense anything from him. The strain purely physical, as his mind floats through the bliss of your command. Your chest grows heavy with the trust that Logan has given to you so freely.
“So good for me, Logan. So good,” you purr.
Finally, you pick up the pace. Raising up before gravity brings you back down, hard. Logan sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, eyes rolling back in his head. Quickly darting them back to your face. Tender flesh gripping him to the hilt, before lifting yourself again. A few thrusts like that, as the impact of your ass on his hips fills the room. If it hurts at all, you know he’ll savor it.
You think fucking like this might break another man’s hips. There are benefits to having a lover made of adamantium. You can play hard, and never break him. He always has his safe word, if it becomes too much.
Changing your pace again, more for your benefit than for Logan’s. One hand tangles in his hair, pulling. Your arm rests by his head, face hovering just above his. Each of his pants ghost across your lips. Thrusting quicker now, as you rock your hips up and down. Gaze locked on his. The sound of the leaves rustling against the window is drowned out by the bed frame squeaking.
His velvety length dragging against your sensitive walls brings you closer to the edge of your release— his tip brushes right where you need it with each thrust as he splits you open. The burning tension coils tight, tight, tight in your belly; until you can’t stand it anymore.
“Lo, fuck, t— touch me,” the command comes out breathier than you intended. But Logan obeys just the same. His hand moves between your bodies, fingers circling your swollen clit as expertly as your own.
Molten heat races through your body as you tumble over the edge. Waves of warm pleasure sweep you away, Logan’s palm resting against your tummy. You can feel your walls flutter around his cock, rolling your hips as you come down from your high, lips ghosting against his ear.
“Come for me, Logan.”
He moves up to meet your thrusts, then. The pressure verges on overstimulation as his cock plunges deep inside. But you savor it, savor giving him exactly what he needs.
“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”
Your grip on his hair weakens to a caress as he spills inside you. You still your hips, letting Logan fuck you through his climax. Once he stops moving, your bodies go limp, enjoying this moment of closeness. The way his skin sticks to yours, damp with sweat. The sound of his heartbeat. The rise and fall of his chest. He lets out a contented sigh, and you finally roll off of him. You enjoy the softness of the mattress against your back for a moment. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you finally spread your legs— making room for Logan to settle between them.
“C’mere, baby. You know I’m not done with you yet.”
Logan grins, wasting no time as he positions himself between your thighs. There is a mischievous little glint in his eye, face hovering above your cunt.
“Finally somethin’ to eat. Had me starvin’ down there, baby.”
Bratty little shit. You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you then, rolling your eyes.
“You talking back to me, bub?” You grab him by the chin, digging in your fingernails hard enough to leave little red crescents in his skin. But there’s a smile on your face and mirth in your voice.
“No ma’am.” His chin angles down, looking up at you with hooded eyes. His smirk is devilish as he bats his eyelashes. Fucking bats his eyelashes. You don’t think anybody would believe that the Wolverine packs a mean doe-eye.
Shaking your head in disbelief, the ghost of a smile on your lips, your hold keeps his greedy mouth just beyond his treasure.
“You wanna rethink your tone, kitty cat?” Head angled, as you watch him through what you hope are stern eyes. You try to add a hard edge to your voice, but he’s so damn cute.
It seems to work. His smirk melts away, and only hunger remains, desperate and glossy-eyed. “Yes ma’am. ‘M sorry.”
Victory is sweet on your tongue, at his concession. The heady weight of control in your palms. Electricity snakes down your spine, each pant of his breath teasing you between your thighs.
“That’s it, baby. I forgive you.” You pout at him, mocking. Maybe you’re a sore winner. You can’t help it when he’s so needy for a taste of himself on your pussy. “Now be a good boy and clean up your mess.”
As soon as you loosen your grip on his chin, he buries himself between your legs. Stroking the flat of his tongue from your weepy slit to your swollen nub. Licking and sucking at your puffy folds, swallowing the mix of your slick and his milky spend like it’s the only meal he’s had in weeks. The squelch of him lapping at you and you moaning his name are all that fill your ears. You toy with the hair at the base of his neck, the roughness of his beard against your thighs making you shiver.
“F-fuck— Lo, baby,” a lewd whimper escapes you, breath stuttering. “You wanna make me come?”
He somehow buries himself even deeper between your legs, then. Nose pressing against your clit just right, as he devours you. Fucking you with his tongue, before moving up to lick quick circles around the bundle of nerves.
“That’s it, Logan— fuck!”
Words are lost to you, for a moment. Taken by the pleasure swelling in your belly as he slides a finger inside. Pressure builds in your abdomen when it curls against that sweet spot. You grind against him, eyes closed and mouth agape.
“Know you can do it, baby,” you pant, spurring him on. Logan adds a second digit, bending to hit the spongy flesh. “So good for me, so—” you are interrupted again, choking out a sob as your core tightens with your impending release.
Logan brings his lips to your slit, fingers still moving inside. His mouth falls open, ready to drink down your essence when the dam within you finally bursts. The pressure behind your navel gives way to warm wetness between your legs. You fall apart on Logan’s thick fingers, throbbing while he swallows the mix of your come and his.
His fingers slide out of you, suddenly empty, and the milky ring around them could be his spend or yours. Hopefully both. Bringing them to his mouth, before he licks them clean. He goes limp when you finally relax onto the bed, his head resting against your tummy. His legs must be hanging off the bed comically, but you can’t bring yourself to lift your head and check. You choose to ignore the wet spot beneath your ass. The remnants of your climax and Logan’s inevitable drooling as he ate you out. Something to worry about later.
For now, your fingers find their way to Logan’s scalp once again, touch featherlight and tender. You can’t help it when he sighs like that beneath your touch. If you had it your way, your hand would never leave its place here. Holding him to you, gently claiming him as yours.
Your mutation is quiet, still, in the afterglow. At peace. And so is Logan. Head still floating in the clouds, blissed out and dazed. Somewhere nobody can reach except the two of you. As much as he needs this, the way you give him respite even sleep never offers, you need it too. The silence, after. As you lay with him, in tenderness.
You’re struck with a sudden truth. Not sure how you’d overlooked it, all this time. A low whisper, as the sun finally rests beneath the horizon. Flickering candlelight and the faint fluorescent glow creeping beneath the bedroom door. The aged wood all that separates your little world from the rest of the mansion. If you weren’t so focused on that strange heaviness in your chest, you would have the presence of mind to hope nobody heard the two of you.
“I love you, Lo.”
Breath held in your lungs, as you wait. Just a beat, before he answers.
“Love you too.” His palm rests on your waist, rubbing tender circles. His face nuzzles a little closer into your belly. “My baby. My girl.”
The stinging behind your eyes catches you off guard. But, so do his words. You feel the truth in them. You never thought you’d have this with someone. Never thought anybody would trust you. An interloper. An unwelcome visitor, eavesdropping on the devotion of strangers, destined to feel their love for each other. But never for you. It was never going to be for you.
But you feel it, now. Yours. Unsure why it hadn’t cross your mind before.
Like a wolf, when you met. Wild, feral. Lashing out to bite any hand that got too close. Tamed, with your compassion. Firm as it was. You always thought he was like a guard dog. Faithful. Trusting. Once you’d earned it. Of course he would love you like one.
You felt heat creep up your ears, at the thought of getting him a collar, stifling a laugh in the crook of your elbow.
His hum vibrates against your torso.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, baby. Think I just need some psychological help.” The words are muffled against your arm.
Logan is still packing plenty of sass, even in his fucked out state.
“That’a surprise?” He looks up at you, a single eyebrow arched. You can’t help but laugh. Smiling, as you rebuke.
“Asshole.”
a/n: aaah thank you for reading!! i'm nervous about this one, if you liked it please let me know!! 🫣
dividers by saradika-graphics