Aug 4, 2024
WANNA BE YOUR DOG
Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader
Chapter Overview:
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from Tunisia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Yemen
WANNA BE YOUR DOG
Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader
Chapter Overview:
a/n: takes place before x-men when wolverine is cage fighting, as shown towards the beginning of the movie - series might stray from what's considered canon
🎀 means containing NSFW content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5 🎀
Masterlist
WANNA BE YOUR DOG
Chapter One
Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader
Chapters | Masterlist
Winter already has its icy grip on the world outside, but in this bar, it’s as hot as the equator.
There wasn’t a shot in hell you would’ve picked this job - bartending in a sketchy underground cage-fighting joint - if it weren't for sheer desperation. Sweaty bodies packed tightly together. Impatient men demanding service everywhere you turn. Grunts and shouts and wails of pain from the cage.
When the fighting was over, the majority of patrons stumbling out the door, you could finally breathe. Wipe down the bartop, wipe away the night.
“Hey, bub, can I get a beer?”
The Wolverine heaves his weary body on a barstool and makes his usual request - the bar owners’ main source of income, the undefeatable beast of a man got a drink free after striking every opponent down with a few swings of his fist. The body hit the floor; another bet was won.
“Here you go.” You avoid his gaze as you pass him the bottle. He grunts his thanks.
A few months ago, you lost your previous job, though fortunately you had a roommate to cover your half of the rent until you found another. Unfortunately, said roommate had already planned on moving out around that same time. Therefore this sad little nightly routine was the only means of avoiding homelessness. What would your parents think, if they were to see you in this dingy, overtly illegal, shithole of a bar? You smile slightly at the thought as you dry off a glass.
Sensing eyes on you, you glance up to meet the Wolverine’s dark gaze, expressionlessly trained on you. Heat creeps into your cheeks and you turn away to pick up another glass.
–
“Shit, shit, shit!”
You slam your car door shut behind you, aborting your fruitless attempts to start it. You wrap your fleece-lined jacket tightly around yourself as you glare at the crappy old piece of metal and go over your options. Option, singular. Walk down a pitch-black icy road. You cuss again and ram a boot into the door.
“You alright there?” A gruff voice from behind startles you.
Turning around, you’re met with the looming presence of the cage fighter, donning a motorcycle jacket, the high collar and angular shoulders making him look even more intimidating. He looks at you with a raised brow.
“Er - well - no, not really,” you stammer out, “my car won’t start.”
“Oh.”
He remains several feet away from you, as if approaching a wild animal. You scuff the toe of your shoe in the gravel like a shy schoolgirl. “Yeah. Um…”
“Would you like a ride?”
He’s offering you a ride.
You shouldn’t. This is a dangerous man; a fighter for a living. And beyond that, you had reason to suspect he might not be just a man. You were sceptical of the idea of mutants, but after watching him take many a vicious blow and emerging without so much as a scrape, you had good reason to believe you were in the presence of one. So you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t get into the scary guy’s car. Even if your teeth were chattering and your toes numb in your boots. You shouldn’t.
If your parents would be terrified at the sight of your workplace, they’d faint at the sight of you meekly accepting the Wolverine’s offer.
You put all associations of kidnappers with white vans out of your head as you follow him to his. You jam your hands deep into your pockets and clench your jaw tight to prevent the audible chattering. Once in the passenger seat, you breathe a small sigh of relief when the first thing he does after switching on the ignition is turn the heater all the way up.
“Put your hands on it so they can warm up.” He grumbles. You oblige. “Why don’t you have gloves on?”
“I think I left them in my car,” you reply, feeling somewhat foolish. You wonder if making other people feel about two inches tall was a hobby of his or an unconscious habit.
He says nothing. He doesn’t turn the radio on. His eyes remain trained on the road ahead. You glance at him once or twice, but his expression is blank and his mouth is clamped shut. Behind you, you are aware of the narrow bed and minimalistic living set up that brings to you a wave of affection for your one-storey rental that has caused you so much grief these past few months. You had always assumed cage fighting must be pure sport to him, and that there was some daytime job he worked to support himself, but now you're beginning to wonder if his sole income is the bets placed on his fists.
He parks a little way down the opposite side of the road as there are cars in front of your house. You pause with your hand on the door handle, watching him scan the area before grunting, “Iʼll walk you in.”
You fumble with the latch on your gate, letting your hair sweep over your face to disguise your rosy cheeks when he leans over you to do it himself. Taking extra care not to slip on your doorsteps and make an even bigger fool of yourself, you jiggle your key into the lock and turn to face…you don’t know his real name. Oh god.
“Thank you so, so much…”
“Logan.”
“Yes! Logan. Thank you Logan.” You give him an awkward smile as he nods his head, again, expressionless.
He grunts a humble “no problem,” and turns to walk away as you step halfway over the threshold. Your mind returns to his van. The sorry little bed that you’re quite frankly surprised can support his broad stature. Before you can psych yourself out of it, you blurt out: “Wait! I have a spare room?”
He halts, caught off guard. “What?”
“If you wanted to stay the night,” you cringe at the words as you say them, “since you went through the trouble of taking me home. You're welcome to. If you want.”
The silence is deafening. He blinks at you and the sudden urge to shoot yourself in the head is overwhelming. Oh my god, what am I think-
“Alright. If it’s okay.”
–
Naturally, he’d gone to fetch a change of clothes and a toothbrush, and you took the few minutes to shove stray underwear in your laundry basket, bin the empty bottle of wine on your kitchen counter, and clear away the pile of well-loved makeup products cluttering the bathroom sink. You mentally cursed yourself for living like the cover of the Stereotypical Sad Single Female magazine.
A new wave of embarrassment washed over you when you showed him to your roommate’s old room, the bed still made in the comically girly pink floral sheets she had left behind. “Very feminine.” he’d commented.
When you’d hastily excused yourself to bed, you let out a long, self-loathing groan into your pillow.
–
It’s six-thirty in the morning, a blasphemous hour to be awake at, and Logan is trying to be quiet on the other side of the wall, in spite of his ridiculously heavy footsteps. You lie awake as he shuffles to the bathroom, wait until the shower is on, then haul yourself out of bed because part of you worries he'll sneak out like a guilty one-night stand without you getting the chance to atleast make him coffee.
By the time he’s emerged, dressed, from the bathroom you've managed to stick some bacon in a pan and made a pot of coffee. He seems taken aback, and it makes you far more comfortable to know that there's one emotion that can display itself on his stoic face: surprise.
“Sorry if I woke you up.” He glances at you as you set his plate on the table.
“It’s fine,” you reply, sitting opposite. Now that the Wolverine is sat at your dainty kitchen table, he seems less like a man-bashing beast and more like a stray dog you've ushered into your home. Thoughtfully, you begin to eat, suddenly feeling far more able to look at him directly. “Can I ask you something?”
He stops, looking at you slowly. “Ask me what?”
Now or never. You inhale deeply and softly say, “How come you never have a single bruise to show for those beatings you take?”
A pause. He chews his bacon and swallows it carefully, analysing your face.
“Do you really want to know?” his voice is low and eyes narrow. You nod. With a sigh, he sets down his cutlery and lifts a fist - the swift sound of sharp metal being unsheathed cuts through the domestic morning quiet as three knife-like claws protrude from his knuckles. Your eyes widen and your knife and fork clatter onto your plate.
“You’re a-”
“This metal runs through me. I think it’s attached to my skeleton.” He explains, rotating his fist so you can better gawk at the claws. “I can also heal extremely fast. There’s other things too, like my sense of smell being advanced…”
“Like a wolverine,” you say, “apt name.”
He grunts and you absent-mindedly lift a finger to touch the deadly metal, “They’re sharp.” he snaps, retracting them. You sit back quickly. He clears his throat. “Sorry. Just didn't want you to…”
“It’s okay. Ahem…”
You don’t dare ask another question despite the many that were whirring in your mind, feeling that the tension has risen once more surrounding the subject. The two of you eat, in silence again.
Once he has his shoes and jacket on, you show him to the door. In spite of the information revealed at the table, somehow his presence makes you a little less nervous than it did the previous night. He falters in the threshold, turning to you.
“Thanks, for letting me stay and everything,” he says. “You didn’t have to.”
You smile lightly, “It’s no problem, really. Thank you for the ride home.”
He nods, “See you, then.”
“See you, Logan.”
You watch him from the window in your door as he crosses the street, lighting up a cigar. If your parents could see you now.
a/n: so sorry for this shaky writing 😭 this is my first time working on a series and I suckkk at starting things so sorry if this falls a little flat - might go back and re-edit when I'm not so tired but oh well! if you'd like to be tagged in the next part please let me know :))
@fallout-girl219 @viviannagiorgini
WANNA BE YOUR DOG
Chapter Three
Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader
Chapters | Masterlist
Combat is often described as a dance. To Logan, it’s a procedure.
When his opponent, eyes gleaming meanly in the dim light of the cage, raises his fists and sneers, the Wolverine allows two or three hits for the crowd’s pleasure. Roars of excitement - a glimmer of hope - rise all around. Then, when the unlucky fool has stepped back to shake out his sore fists and strike again, he’s met by a blow powered by solid metal. Only a few more follow before he’s sprawled out on the floor.
Tonight is no different. Two men have been knocked down already, and Logan is taking the brief pause while another is selected to smoke, eyeing the bar.
It’s packed, more so than usual. Sweat beads on your forehead as you run around, accompanied by only one other bartender – understaffed as usual. What’s worse, some drunk guy has been harassing you all night. Shouting sleazy remarks at you over the noise, unashamedly ogling your tits in the square-neck top you regretted wearing the minute you clocked in. Logan sees it all from the cage. He takes a long drag of his cigar to subdue himself when he sees the man dare to touch your arm when you hurry past. You brush it off, accustomed to the unsavoury behaviours of the bar’s clientele. Logan is not so willing to do the same.
It must be his lucky day, he thinks, when the bold asshole is stepping towards him with his fists readied – too cocky to notice how the Wolverine’s lips have curled into a terrible grin.
The sudden disappearance of half the customers surrounding you draws your attention to the sight of a man, bloody and brutally beaten to unconsciousness being dragged out the door. Horrified, you glance at the cage: Logan’s looming figure, breathing hard as he watches it happen.
“Oh fuck.” you breathe.
–
Logan raises his eyebrows as you turn your back to him the minute he lugs himself onto a barstool. A beat of silence passes before he grunts, “Can I have my beer?”
You slam down the dirty glass you’ve just picked up and glare at him. “No Logan, you may not.”
“Why-”
“Why? Because I saw what you did to that guy,” you hiss, “that was cruel. You were too hard on him. You know you have an advantage.”
He furrows his brows. “I only did it because I saw him harassing you.”
“Loads of guys harass me!” you argue, furiously wiping the counter. “I’m used to it. You don’t need to play knight in shining armour just ’cause some dude was a dick to me.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “But-”
You shoot him a nasty look, storming to the other end of the bar to continue cleaning. Logan keeps his mouth shut, shrugging on his jacket and waiting for your shift to end outside.
–
It had been three and a half weeks since he’d first moved in and things had been admittedly a little odd at first. Yet the two of you were beginning to warm to each other; taking turns to carry out household tasks, making light conversation in the kitchen. Now he’s fucked it all up.
In the van, your arms are folded and the tension is so thick he could slice it with his claws. It takes him great self-control not to veer off the road, the way he keeps glancing at you as you stare out the passenger window, keeping your back to him.
You slam your bedroom door behind you the minute you arrive home. Logan stands in the doorway staring at it dumbly.
You make quick work of peeling off your clothes, the stench of cheap booze and cigarette smoke heavy on them. You pull on a long sleeve, sweatpants, and fluffy socks, then collapse on your unmade bed to blink at the ceiling.
He was trying to do a nice thing for you. You feel guilt stir in the pit of your stomach at the realisation. Your roommate’s social ineptness had not gone unnoticed by you; being a mutant who knocks people about for a living must make regular interactions a difficult experience for him. Beating that guy up today – it was a demonstration of him caring for you. In some weird, brutish way.
The smell of food cooking and the sound of clattering pans from the kitchen greets you when you emerge from your room. You walk in to find Logan cursing under his breath, rooting through your fridge.
“Logan, do you need help?”
He runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah, I think I do.”
You sentenced him to a simpler task – cutting vegetables, which he still managed to slice his finger doing; you got to witness the wound heal and vanish in a matter of seconds – and got to work fixing the mess he made. The two of you ended up eating together on the couch, watching a movie.
You nudged him with your foot to catch his attention. “Sorry I freaked out.”
“Sorry I upset you,” he says, swigging his beer. “Can I ask you something, though?”
“Sure.”
“You said guys harass you all the time. How bad is it?”
In the flickering light of the TV, his eyes are laser-focused on you, and you sink back deeper into the cushions. “It happens…I guess as much as you’d expect at a place like that. I don’t know, it’s not always bad, some of them are alright.”
He snorts, “You’re lying.”
“What!”
“You’re downplaying it for me,” he retorts. “If some of them are alright, how come you don’t go out with them?”
Your face grows hot as you fiddle with the label on your beer bottle. “I just…It’s…” you squirm. “My last relationship ended, well, horribly, so…”
“Horribly?” Logan’s gaze is as hot as a brand on you, and you half feel like he ought to hold a lamp by your face so it can be a true interrogation.
“He left me for my roommate.” you force out. “That’s why she moved out. To live with him. I mean, we were only together for like six months, but it…hurt, I guess.”
Neither of you speak for a moment. You’re aware of his eyes still boring into your skull. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t-”
“It was so long ago, it doesn’t matter,” you interject, “I ought to let it go.”
And just like that, the progress you’d made had fizzled out.
–
The following night was a slow one. Though you couldn’t see from the bar, Logan had been watching you between matches, trying to study your body language. Completely unreadable. He took care not to release his frustration through his fists.
“Well damn.” you turn to see a man, younger than what would typically be found at this kind of establishment, grinning at you as he leans on the bar. “Aren’t you pretty?”
You tack on your best customer-appeasing smile, “Can I get you anything, sir?”
“A scotch on the rocks. And your number.”
You roll your eyes at the line you’d heard a million times over. “Your drink’s coming up, my number is not.”
“Got a boyfriend?”
“No,” you reply curtly, pouring him his drink.
“So why not?”
When you look up at the playful grin on his surprisingly good-looking face, you think over what Logan had asked you the night before: If some of them are alright, how come you don’t go out with them? The hurt and betrayal following your last break-up still lingers, but there’s a chance it may never disappear unless you move on. And this guy is alright, so what harm could it do?
You scrawl your number on a napkin and slide it to him. He winks.
–
A strange feeling was nagging at Logan as he watched you rush about, searching for misplaced earrings and pausing at any mirrored surface to check your hair. He’d heard very little about your date, only that he asked you out at the bar and was taking you to dinner in the nicer part of town. And yet, something felt…not quite right.
You hurried out the door, wishing him a quick goodnight, taking care not to slip on any ice while wearing the nice pair of heels you had reserved for “special occasions”.
–
A heavy sense of disappointment settled over you when you remembered how most dates usually go: initial anticipation, then small talk, then the realisation that the guy sat across from you is no different from the parade of dicks that you somehow were consistently managing to attract. By the time dessert came, you were thoroughly regretting your decision to go out with him.
He drove you home, not offering to walk you to your door. Okay, you think, a goodnight in the car. At least he drove me home.
“Tonight was fun,” he says, eyes lidded. You grit your teeth for what you know will come next.
“Yeah, it was,” you blatantly lie. “I should-”
He cuts you off with a kiss. When you pull away, a shiver runs up your spine as you begin to open the car door.
“What are you doing?” His hand is suddenly wrapped tight around your wrist, startling you into dropping back into your seat. He plants a kiss on your neck.
“Um, I’m sorry, I’m gonna go,” you say, pulling away. “This was nice!”
His reply is muffled as you practically leap outside, heading to your front gate. Before you can breathe a sigh of relief, you jump at the slam of a car door, turning to see him marching towards you with a sneer.
He aims for your wrist again, but you snatch it away before he can curl his fingers around it. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing, just-” You fumble with the latch until the gate swings open, making you stumble backwards. He catches you before you tumble onto the path by the waist.
“How ’bout I come inside-”
“How about you fuck off.” The low, sinister warning rumbles from the throat of your roommate, who appears in the doorway from the darkness of the house. He curls his fingers into fists, and from his knuckles unsheathes his claws. “Go on. Get.”
The trembling man releases his hold on you to dart back to his car, sending you falling on your ass.
“Ow…” you groan.
Two large hands hoist you up, and you grin sheepishly up at Logan. “You alright?” he frowns down at you.
“I’m fine now,” you murmur, “thanks for being my knight in shining armour again.”
His firm expression melts into a soft chuckle. It’s then that you notice his warmth; the two of you are standing unusually close, his hands still settled on your waist, yours having naturally found purchase on his chest. And he’s not laughing anymore.
What’s happening?
Your heart beats like a marching drum, banging against your ribcage like it’s fighting to get free. He’s inching closer. You can feel his hot breath flutter across your face.
He tastes like smoke and whiskey when your lips melt together.
@viviannagiorgini @maximumchilddreamland @vinaluvsu @policedeer @curlies-world @twinky-wink @willow-t @nobrihere @marshymallo
WANNA BE YOUR DOG
Chapter Five
Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader
Chapters | Masterlist
cw: smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, piv, no protection, kind of soft!dom logan?
Logan is seething.
He can see it, clear as day, the way her presence is slowly killing you. You’re reserved: distracted at your job, quiet in the car, untouchable at home. And Alison?
She’s been moping on the couch and keeping you up late with her ranting. It pains him to see how tired you are; getting home from the bar already exhausted, only to spend another few hours comforting the girl you had told him was “like a sister”.
Part of you knows you should be angry; you daydream about tearing the door open, marching over to her and shouting, screaming about how much she’d hurt you. Then you’d see her – eyes ringed red – and there was no energy to do it.
Give her that second chance, you tell yourself.
-
You look up at him, perplexed, as Logan guards you from putting your key in the lock.
“Promise me something.” He demands.
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll go straight to bed.” You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off: “I’ll take care of Alison. Sleep. Promise?”
You grit your teeth and sigh, “I promise. Okay?”
He moves out the way.
-
Logan doesn’t bother to be discreet when he checks his watch. It’s been nearly two hours, and Alison was still whining next to him.
“I’m keeping you up,” she sniffs.
“It’s fine.”
“You’ve been so nice to me, thank you. Thank you.”
Logan shrugs, “Just being a good host.”
It’s been three nights of this agony and his patience is waning thin. He would have snapped during the first thirty minutes of the first night, but the vision of you sleeping soundly kept him rooted to the couch.
A hand on his forearm jolts him from his thoughts, the unwelcome visitor blinking up at him. “I don’t know what she’s told you, but I’m not a bad person, y’know?”
He tenses.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do. I feel terrible that I hurt her feelings, but really, she should’ve seen it coming.”
“Right.”
“I liked him – loved him – the minute I set eyes on him. She knew that. It was bound to happen.”
“Mhm.”
“And we’re all adults, aren’t we? We can forgive and forget? There’s no ‘boyfriend stealing’, just unfortunate circumstances.”
“Whatever you say, Alison,” he mutters, glancing down at her blankly. “No ‘boyfriend stealing’.”
“Right, so I can do this.”
And she kissed him.
-
It was noon when you woke up, rubbing sleep from your eyes, your usual relief at the realisation that you wouldn’t have to work tonight replaced by the dread at the realisation that you would have to comfort Alison for longer. You remained tangled in your covers for a few minutes more.
Dragging yourself out of your room, your attention is immediately drawn to Logan’s back, hunched over the stove. Then, it’s drawn to your couch, no longer a mess of blankets – and devoid of a crying girl. You check the bathroom: empty.
“She’s gone.” Logan says simply.
You curl your fingers into fists as you step into the kitchen. “Where?”
He takes the pan off the heat, “To a hotel. I paid, don’t worry. But she’s not welcome back.”
“Logan!”
“I made bacon.”
You bury your head into your hands. “It wasn’t your place to do that.”
Logan looks at you for a moment, settling the storm of emotion that threatens to shake him before he speaks. “If I didn’t, she would’ve never left.”
“She was hurt.”
“So were you.”
You straighten up at that to glare at him. “It doesn’t matter what happened in the past! I’m an adult, I’m over it, and so’s she!”
To your fury, Logan’s face doesn’t shift at your raised voice.
“If you’re over it, why are you shouting at me?” he asks, gently. You blink at him. There’s no anger in his tone. “Why are you letting this get between us? Why aren’t you letting me in?”
You sigh and step forward, reaching up to smooth your hands over his broad shoulders. He brushes his palms against your elbows. “You haven’t exactly let me in either, Lo.” You point out softly.
“I know,” he grumbles. “I want to. I don’t know why I can’t.”
You crane your neck, your face closer to his, your lips a whisper away from his. “You can.” He says your name. “Let me in.”
He cups your face in a searing kiss.
-
Melting. That’s what it feels like: you’re melting into him, as he lets an arm wrap around your face and pull you close.
He licks into your mouth like he’s been starved – and he has, having had the time you were in his lap on repeat in his head for the past few weeks. When you break, gasping for air, he attacks the sensitive spot at the base of your neck he had memorised from that night. You tug at his hair lightly as he sucks onto it, somehow not mortified at the idea of a massive lovebite colouring your skin. He groans at the action, sending heat flooding right through you.
You breathe his name, “I want you so bad…”
“Don’t. Say that.” He grits out, kissing you firmly. “I won’t– keep it together.”
And to his delight, your kiss-swollen lips curve into a smile. “God, please don’t keep it together, because I can’t.”
He collects you into his arms like you’re little more than a feather and crashes his lips onto yours once more.
You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, pressing against where his jeans have grown tight, feeling yourself pulse desperately at the sheer ease of him picking you up. He presses your back to the wall and gropes at your hips.
Logan’s lips leave yours to begin a trail of kisses, down your neck, your torso – he lowers himself onto his knees, hoisting you into a more stable position: elevated against the wall, your legs over his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips as he looks up at you, as if worshipping an altar.
“Is this okay?” he asks, fingers edging at the waistband of your little sleep shorts, itching to get at what’s inside.
“Yes, Lo.”
He begins to hike them down your thighs, but in his eagerness forgot his own strength; they ripped, a diagonal tear from the crotch up to the waistband.
For a moment, you both stare at the damage. “...Whoops,” Logan says, then simply rips them completely off of you.
A breathy laugh escapes you as he promises to replace them, cutting you off when he noses at the dampened fabric of your panties.
“You can rip those too if you want…” you offer shakily, feeling his hot breath against you.
He smirks, and with a single hand, does just that. The scraps of fabric fall lazily around your thighs as he leans in close again.
“So wet,” he gloats, and as the tips of your ears start to go pink, he licks a stripe through your folds, bumping your clit with his nose. You whine loudly.
If he was starved kissing you, he’s completely ravenous eating you out. You keep your grip firm in his hair, spurring him on as he works his tongue. Licking at you, flicking inside, routinely sucking your clit. You feel your vision begin to blur, your mouth hung open as you moan wantonly, a pressure building up in your lower abdomen. Logan murmurs praises into you, good girl and let me hear you and taste s’good.
You cum, tipping your head back.
He sets your wobbling legs on the ground, only to lift them straight up again once on his feet and kissing you. You can taste yourself on his tongue as you kiss back dazedly.
Once more in his arms, he carries you to his bedroom and sets you down on the bed to strip his shirt off. You sit up, clamouring for his belt, fumbling at the buckle. He gently brushes you off, reaching for the hem of your shirt.
“Lemme see you,” he mumbles.
You help him lift your shirt and scoot backwards as he sinks a knee into the mattress, lowering himself towards you. “You’re so beautiful.” He palms your breasts, finger and thumb coming to teasingly pinch a nipple.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” you breathe, laying back as he brackets your head with his elbows. You run your hands over his torso, feeling the muscles flex and admiring the forest of chest hair that reminds you this is a real man, caring for you.
“No?” he chuckles, kissing you as he shifts his weight on one forearm to reach between your thighs. You squeak as his thick middle finger runs up your slit, gathering your arousal and pressing inside. “Relax, sweetheart, I need to stretch you out..”
“I want you to feel good too,” you whine. He grunts appreciatively as you cup his erection through the denim.
“Don’t worry about me, baby.” He adds another finger, curling them so well you abandon his bulge and grab his shoulders, practically purring. He swirls circles against your throbbing clit with his thumb, easing in a third finger. “So tight, shit…”
“Mm!” You close your eyes, head sinking into the duvet.
“You ready for my dick?” His voice is low and gravelly, tickling at your ear, and you nod wildly. “Words, gorgeous.”
“Yes, Lo.”
His jeans and boxers come down with one pull, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip at the sight of it: achingly hard in his grip, red and leaking. And huge. And approaching your entrance.
Your hold on his shoulders tightens, and he reaches for a pillow to situate under your hips. “It’s okay, I’ll go slow, tell me to stop if you need to.” He murmurs into your neck, pressing a comforting kiss into the skin there. You feel the head of his cock slide against you, gathering your slick before pressing against your entrance.
You croon as he enters inch by inch. He whispers encouragingly against your hairline. Your nails begin to dig into his back, and he feels a brief disappointment at the thought that the red marks will disappear immediately. However, that is quickly forgotten as he lets out a straggled groan at the feeling of your tight heat squeezing him, not even all the way in yet. He gives pause to let you breathe, squeezing your waist supportively.
When he finally slides home, you feel him brush against your cervix. You compose yourself, adjusting to the full feeling. “Move.”
“You sure?”
“Please, Logan!”
He pulls himself back, until only the tip remains inside, then pushes all the way back in. You moan.
He fucks into you so deep it makes your eyes roll back. It’s not necessarily fast, but the way he slams against that spot is so delicious it brings tears to your eyes. He’s surprisingly vocal: groaning and grunting at the feeling of you wrapped around him, sucking him in, clawing at his back. “That’s it, my girl, oh… there? There?”
He hits at an angle that makes you wail, and begins to thrust at a quicker pace, pelvis grinding into your clit. His dog tags are swinging and his skin glistens with sweat. You admire him as he admires you: the movement of your tits, the tears beginning to track down your face. He kisses them away as you squeak out a mantra of ah, ah, ah, ah…
When you cum it’s glorious: your mouth hanging open with a final cry, your cunt squeezing him tightly, white painting his cock and trickling from your hole.
He kisses you sweetly, pulling out. You sit up slightly, confused, before being immediately pushed back down as he presses your thighs to your front – folding you in half.
“Another.” He growls out.
Instead of pushing straight back in, Logan holds just beneath the pulsing, angry, crimson head of his cock, and slides it against you. Up and down, catching on your entrance enticingly.
“Logan…” You try to wiggle your hips temptingly, but he’s got you pressed down too tight.
He stops the teasing drag at your clit, and then-
You squeal; he begins to tap the head of his cock against your swollen clit, grinning down at you deviously.
“Logan! Please, please–”
“Please what, baby?”
You whine brokenly. There’s an animalistic glint in his dark eyes. “P– please– fuck me, Lo, put it in!”
He plunges into you in one go, your back arching at the immediate assault on your cervix. He’s somehow even deeper at this angle, and now faster, fucking you into the mattress at a primal pace.
You can feel your climax start to build quicker. Logan is aware he won’t last as long either; he brings his thumb to your clit to rub tight circles as you approach the edge.
“That’s it– fuck, fuck, close, baby?”
Your lips can’t form a reply, instead responding in a high, drawn-out moan as you cream on his cock, the feeling a crashing wave wracking your body. Your release triggers his; his thrusts faltering and his hips grinding into yours as he fills you completely.
You both pant, exhausted. You make a pained little noise as Logan slips his now-soft dick out of you. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, telling you how good you’ve been for him.
-
Bathing in the post-sex glow, you lie together. You’re curled into his side, his arm banded around you, rubbing patterns into your bare skin with his thumb.
“Logan?”
“Mm?” He kisses your forehead.
“That skanky bitch made a move on you, didn’t she?”
Logan chuckles, tucking your hair out of your face. “Damn near shoved her on the floor.”
You sit up to kiss him, smiling against his lips.
“Wish you did.”
@viviannagiorgini @maximumchilddreamland @vinaluvsu @policedeer @curlies-world @twinky-wink @willow-t @nobrihere @marshymallo @jasmines-greentea @pink-jello-fish @unlikelygalaxygiver @yakbuttersoup @mikariell95 @introvertreader20 @fictionalmen-dilflover
WANNA BE YOUR DOG
Chapter Four
Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader
Chapters | Masterlist
cw: suggestive
You don’t sleep. You lie under the covers, hyper-aware of the man on the other side of the wall. In your restless mind, last night’s event plays over and over and over again.
The two of you had broken apart after those few blissful seconds to blink stupidly at each other. The only thing able to snap you out of your trance was an icy gust of wind making your whole body shudder, at which Logan said hurriedly, “We should go inside.”
An awkward goodnight and that was it; your doors clicking shut simultaneously. Did that mean he regrets it? Do you regret it? You groan into your pillow wishing only to sleep, sleep, sleep.
–
Logan goes to work early and comes back in the mid-afternoon. In the evening, you take the bus to the bar; he drives there later. As you ward off nasty men all night, there’s a deep dread weighing you down inside at the thought of yet another excruciating ride home.
The second he starts up the van, he turns on the radio. The Rolling Stones’ Wild Horses fills the empty silence in place of conversation.
“I like this song,” you say meekly.
“Yeah,” he grunts, “Stones are great.”
Another awkward goodnight. And that’s all you said to each other today.
–
After another day passes, you don’t know whether to cry or scream. You can’t meet his eyes and now he can’t meet yours either. You’re wound up so tightly that you fear what will happen to you when you unravel. Sat on the couch, you remain as far away from Logan as you can manage without making it apparent you’re trying to put space between you, bouncing your knee. The house is dark and the TV glaringly bright, causing your eyes to water, but you keep on staring straight at it.
Logan, however, is staring straight at you.
“Are you okay?” he asks after nearly half an hour of hesitation.
That’s all it took.
“No, Logan, I’m not okay,” you snap. “After we – the other night – and then you just don’t say anything to me! For fuck’s sake, it’s been radiosilence from you for two nights! You could at least tell me you regretted kissing me-”
“Regretted?” he echoes, brows furrowed.
“Why else would you ignore me?” you shout.
Logan stands, abandoning his beer on the side table. “I don’t regret shit. I thought you were the one who regretted it, since you haven’t been able to look me in the face since.”
You leap to your feet. “I was embarr-”
“Do you regret it?”
The question makes you pause. Logan waits, staring you down with such an intensity it should make you want to run – but you don’t, you step closer, recalling his taste, his touch…
“No.” You answer.
His expression softens as he processes this new information. “Then…why are we fighting?”
“I don’t know,” you breathe, the both of you inching tentatively closer. You take in his face as the light from the screen flickers across his features: he’s handsome in a classically rugged way, so much so it makes your heart swell against your ribcage. He gently settles his hands on your waist and you peer up at him nervously. “Will you kiss me?”
His lips collide with yours the second the words leave your mouth, his arms engulfing you as you loop yours around his neck. It’s pure passion. The slightest whimper escapes the back of your throat, causing him to bite down on your bottom lip. Your hands immediately make their way up into his hair.
You break for air, gasping and panting, and he takes the opportunity to pull you back down onto the couch, settling in his lap. He begins to descend down your neck: starting along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, and settling at the base, kissing and suckling. Your hands find purchase again in his hair. You gasp when he finds a sensitive spot, and he sucks a mark there before attacking your lips again eagerly. Heat is pooling in your lower abdomen, and your hips twitch, a subtle half-grind that Logan picks up on straight away. He bucks up into you and presses your hips down to meet him in a grind that makes you stutter out a startled moan. Your bodies move just like that as you kiss each other feverishly.
When you pull away from his face, his pupils large with lust, gazing dreamily into yours – you realise what you’re doing.
“Wait, Logan – wait,” you pant.
He stops immediately, studying your face with a terrified expression. “Are you okay? I can stop.”
You giggle airily, feeling a little light-headed. “I’m fine, Lo, I just don’t want to jump into things.” You see him exhale with relief, wrapping his arms around your middle to hold you closer. “After everything with my last boyfriend…”
“I understand.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll take it slow, sweetheart, no rush at all.”
–
The next week was tentative. You tested the waters first, giving him a kiss on the cheek before he left for work in the morning. Then he put his arm around you when you watched TV together; you pressed your arm against his as he washed while you dried the dishes; he put his hand on your knee when driving home the previous night.
Although he could never admit it to himself, Logan is absolutely terrified. You’re such a sweet thing – delicate and lovely next to him. Like glass. He worries that if he were to hold you too tight you’d shatter into a million little reflective pieces.
Sore from swinging an axe all day, he drives home, recalling how he once lived so coldly in this van when it dawns on him that there’s no going back. Your warmth sustains him now. A rare smile lifts his lips at the thought of your big eyes and pretty face greeting him at the door.
The saccharine fantasy is instantly crushed like a bug by the scene that awaits him inside. He sees you standing in the living room, a girl he doesn’t recognise crying on your shoulder. Something sinister seizes in his gut when he sees the distant, anxious look in your eyes as you half-heartedly pet her hair.
“Who’s this?”
–
At first, you’d simply stared, dumbfounded, when Alice appeared at your door.
“He kicked me out and I have nowhere to go,” she’d wept, and, in spite of everything, you stepped aside to usher her into the home you once shared.
You tried hard to forget how familiar it sounded when she explained how he’d found someone else and left her in his dust. There was a heaviness in your bones when you brought her into your embrace.
“You can sleep on the couch.” you sighed.
–
“Why did you let her in?”
Your bedroom door clicked shut behind Logan as you slump on the bed with blushing cheeks. He must think I’m such a loser.
You let out a shaky breath, “We were friends for years, practically sisters, I couldn’t just… say no.”
He snorts, and tears prick at your waterline. “Some sister.”
Your lower lip trembles. You bow your head so that he can’t see you try to blink back the tears – but it’s no use.
“Hey, I just mean…” he stoops down and takes your chin in his hand. “She hurt you. She could hurt you again.”
“I know, but…” you sigh. “It’s worth giving her a second chance.”
An unreadable look flickers over his face; he swallows hard before murmuring, “If that’s what you want.”
a/n: so sorry this took so long!!
@viviannagiorgini @maximumchilddreamland @vinaluvsu @policedeer @curlies-world @twinky-wink @willow-t @nobrihere @marshymallo @jasmines-greentea @pink-jello-fish @unlikelygalaxygiver @yakbuttersoup
WANNA BE YOUR DOG
Chapter Two
Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader
Chapters | Masterlist
You had his beer ready before he’d even approached the bar. He thanks you, and you go about wiping the counters and washing the glasses as per usual. You assume he’s pretending the previous morning’s events never happened.
“Did you get the car fixed?” He speaks up suddenly. It’s a casual question, but there’s a hint of discomfort in its delivery.
“No, they’re gonna scrap it,” you reply without looking at him. “It was ancient anyway. So it’s fine.”
“How did you get to work then?”
“Bus.”
“And how are you gonna get home?”
You shift, fiddling with the cleaning rag in your hands. “I was just gonna…walk.”
He snorts. “In this weather? I’ll take you home.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Don’t argue.” So you don’t.
–
The bar owner counts his winnings from a table in the corner. You feel his eyes linger on you as you leave with Logan. You keep your eyes forward.
The winter air is biting after spending so many hours in that stuffy bar, a sensation that sends a shock through you no matter how many times you experience it. Logan pauses, and you look up to see him sniff. “It’s gonna start snowing.”
A giggle escapes and you clap a hand over your mouth as his attention snaps to you. “Sorry, Wolverine.”
His eyes roll and his lips twitch, daring to smile a little, “I’m just thinking about how you’re going to survive trekking home in the snow every night you work.”
You’re not so amused any more. “I- I’ll manage. I’m a big girl, Logan.”
You turn from him and trudge towards the van. He follows you with a shake of his head.
That godforsaken silence returns on the drive home; your timidness prevents you from breaking it, but the weight of it makes you itch. Ten minutes in, you crack: “So cage fighting, huh?” You hate yourself the minute the words leave your lips.
“Yes, cage fighting.” he affirms, glancing at you.
“Is that your primary source of income?”
“Are you worried about how much I make?”
“No! I just- I’m curious- I-” Your face flames to the tips of your ears, wishing to return to the silence being mildly uncomfortable rather than absolutely agonising. “Forget it.”
He watches your face for a moment. “I had a job interview yesterday. Part-time lumberjack. So I have a day job now.”
“Well then, congratulations,” you say. He grunts.
–
Snowflakes, fat and glittering, have hastened their falling and begun to settle all around when Logan walks you to your door. It feels like deja vu when you stop in the doorway, him halting at the bottom doorstep so that you’re at eye level. Flakes fleck his dark hair and dust his broad shoulders in a way that you find makes him appear somehow endearing.
“I’ll keep dropping you home,” he states. “I can’t have your blood on my hands if you freeze to death.”
Your stomach squeezes and you giggle softly. “Thank you.”
You bid each other farewell. Lingering in the doorway, you watch him saunter back to his van, an idea forming. Before he can cross the street, you decide to fuck it and hurry to the gate, calling his name. “What if you moved in with me?”
–
It made perfect sense; you could barely survive with your measly bartender’s paycheck and he was starting a second job. The two of you could ride home together. It would get him out of the van life he’d been living in. So really, it’s not weird - it’s perfectly reasonable.
You repeat this justification to yourself so as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven. You’d attempted to help him lift his boxes inside, but he’d shooed you off, claiming they were too heavy. Unwilling to sit around and twiddle your thumbs, you started baking a batch of welcome cookies to feel a little less underfoot. Logan wanders into the kitchen with wide eyes.
“They’re welcome cookies,” you explain, carefully lifting each cookie onto the cooling rack. He goes to pick one up and you whack his wrist with the spatula, warning, “They’re hot, wait.” He growls a little and stares at them as if trying to will them to cool faster.
A smile lifts the corners of your mouth; maybe it won’t be so terrible.
a/n: next chapter will be longer promise😭
@viviannagiorgini @maximumchilddreamland @vinaluvsu
@policedeer
I'm now on ao3!
hiiiii!
could i be added to the taglist for your Wanna Be Your Dog series?? :))
added you!!
chapter three's on its way, not sure how long it'll take since i put off working on it yesterday cos I have a Peter Parker fic in the works but it'll be out soon
thank you to everyone that's shown their support so far!!