Alpha - Logan Howlett x ftm!reader
A/N: Hi! Um, this is my first work within the fandom! This was written with X-Men Logan in mind. Fic is unedited with no use of Y/N. This is so self-indulgent, so please be nice
Please make sure to read the tags carefully! They’re there for a reason
CW: Reader is a wolf mutant; Logan and Reader get off to a tense start; Reader is implied to be pre-op ftm, via the use of sports bras; implied wet dreams; use of the words slick and wet to describe Reader’s arousal; a/b/o dynamics? maybe?; misunderstandings; rough sex; pet play? (Reader is called pup); Reader is referred to as handsome; grinding; fingering; use of the word dick to describe Reader’s parts; overstimulation; no use of safe word; unprotected piv; multiple orgasms; implied aftercare
2493 words
The first thing you notice about Logan is his scent.
Not that you know it belongs to him. But it’s all you can smell as you talk to Jean. Thick and heady and strong. Musky like an animal and cloying like smoke.
Jean, of course, can tell you’re distracted. Instead of calling you out on it, she simply calls him in. Him and Scott enter at the same time, with an air of tension between them. Not that you care for long.
You’re too busy ogling the man in front of you. Rugged and handsome, more like a mountain man than a teacher.
Yet, that’s how Jean introduces him. Logan Howlett. History teacher.
You smile politely. You hold out your hand and try to not get too offended when he doesn’t shake it. You can tell he’s wary of you. Not that you could blame him.
You must be giving off a scent of your own, though you can’t smell it. But you can hear his inhale, feel the way his eyes watch you. You know he knows.
Especially when he straightens up. Lifting his chin and widening his stance. Establishing his dominance in a more subtle way than most other males. Perhaps he’s just that assured in his position.
Either way, you can feel your instincts itching at the back of your mind. The desire to submit. To recognize his authority. It pricks at you like a needle, but you brush it away. You’ve had enough of submitting to men like him. If he wants it, he’ll have to earn it.
Jean rests a hand on Logan’s arm, softly scolding him, probably for what he’s thinking. “Hey, be nice. They’re a wolf mutant.”
“A wolf mutant?” He looks unimpressed.
You stand your ground. Your nerves are starting to buzz from the force of his gaze. You hate stare downs, but you can’t lose this one.
“Yeah.” You answer him yourself. “That’s me.”
He scoffs and looks you up and down. “Yeah, whatever, bub. You ever even see a real wolf?”
You know what he’s doing and you hate it. But at least he’s not mistaking you for a girl and being all overly nice. You’d rather get his blunt side than his fake side.
“No. I’m a wolf mutant, not a real wolf.” You at least try to keep some of the sarcasm from your voice. Trying’s worth something, right?
Logan doesn’t look impressed. He crosses his arms, which prompts Scott to finally step in. “Welcome to Xavier’s Home for—“
“Thanks.” You interrupt him with a smile, but your gaze never leaves Logan’s.
Scott seems caught off guard. “Why… don’t I show you around…?”
Something in you relaxes at the thought of being away from such an intimidating man like Logan. You nod and accept his offer.
On your tour, your thoughts keep drifting back to Logan. Even away from him, your body sets on edge at the thought of him. He’s going to be trouble for you, you’re sure of it.
Most of the mutants at Xavier’s are surprisingly accepting of you. The adults, you mean. You don’t tell the kids.
Maybe it’s because you have Jean and Scott on your side, but most of the adults don’t bother you after learning your secret. Most of them find out when you come to training wearing a sports bra and baggy pants.
A few have questions. Most just leave you alone.
You’ve never been more grateful that Logan wasn’t around than during that particular training session.
The tension between the two of you has only gotten worse. You’re sticking by your defiance to his posturing, even at the expense of your pride. Your nerves hate it as well, practically screaming at you whenever Logan gets too close.
Part of you can’t figure it out. You’ve been around men like him before, but never with this reaction. The other part of you doesn’t care enough.
And yet, you care enough to be relieved that he doesn’t directly know your secret. It’s not a huge deal; you’re pretty sure Jean would’ve told him by now. But it’s still nice that he doesn’t know from you.
Until he does.
The whole day starts with you feeling off. You have one of those good dreams, and wake up in a puddle of your own slick. Definitely a damper to your morning.
Then they run out of your favorite breakfast food, some of your students are late to class, and it goes on and on.
By evening you are pissed. Not just at life but at yourself. Because the one thing you cannot get out of your mind is your dream.
You can remember strong arms. Growls of your name. A thick cock bullying its way between your legs. Delicious pleasure.
But you cannot remember the face. It eludes you all day. Stuck there at the back of your mind. On the tip of your tongue.
It’s not until Logan walks into your classroom after your last class that it hits you. With horrifying, picture perfect clarity.
Logan. It was Logan. You had a fucking wet dream about Logan.
Even worse? You’re not as opposed to the idea as you thought you’d be.
For a moment, you’re just staring at Logan. He raises an eyebrow. “You okay, bub?”
“Uh, yeah.” You hastily gather up your things, hoping beyond hope that he can’t smell the slight arousal you feel.
You know it’s too late when you brush by him and he stiffens. You know he can smell you. It doesn’t help the problem.
“What—“
You make your exit. Very fast. Very undignifying. But he doesn’t follow, so you count it as a win.
Two things change. The first is that you start avoiding Logan as much as possible. The second…
Well, the second is that he features in every single one of your dirty fantasies. Every wet dream. Every random horny thought. All Logan.
And it is infuriating.
Logically, you know why. He’s the protector of the house. The ‘alpha’ of the pack, so to speak. Sooner or later your body would react to his presence. He’s strong, handsome, and gruff. Literally your type.
You still blame it on your biology and pretend you don’t think of him when you get off.
It works for a week. One week, that’s how long you get before Logan corners you in the Training Room.
The moment you smell his musky scent, you know you’re fucked. He smells like anger. And something more that you try really hard to not think about.
But this moment was to come eventually, so you gear yourself up and face him head on.
You know you’re a sight. Sweaty and out of breath, wearing a sports bra and pants. If he didn’t know before, he sure does now.
Logan stops a few feet away from you. He eyes you up and down, frowning slightly. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says gruffly.
You cross your arms and wait for him to continue. Slivers of anxiety spiking through your body.
“Why? Why are you avoiding me?” Logan looks frustrated and it makes you want to cower. Shrink down and beg for his forgiveness.
You hated it. How dare he make you feel this way? All because you’re stuck with a fucking wolf mutation that makes you want to hide like a little puppy from him.
So you push against your instincts. Straighten yourself up. Meet his gaze full on. “What does it matter why?”
Logan blinks. As if he hadn’t been expecting your defiance. Then he rumbles out a growl. “You missed the team training session yesterday. How are we supposed to make sure you’re ready for missions if you don’t show up?”
It’s your turn to blink. To stare. To be confused. “What?”
He crosses his arms, unintentionally making his forearms stand out so perfectly. Not that you’re noticing, of course. Just another pesky side effect of his presence.
“You’re one of the most capable mutants here,” Logan says firmly. “So if you have an issue, let’s talk about it now.”
“Wait, you’re here about missions?”
He nods. Then frowns. “What else would I be here for?”
Suddenly you feel stupid. Absolutely stupid. “So… you’re not here about…” You gesture to your body.
His frown deepens. “What?”
“You know,” your anxiety feels like fire ants in your stomach. “The fact that my body is—“
“I could care less, bub,” he says bluntly. “It’s your body.”
You want to cry. You want to laugh. This whole time you’ve been stressing about Logan, and he hasn’t given a single fuck.
You relax. Your anxiety dissipating so fast it makes your head feel funny. That’s one of your problems solved.
And the other?
Well, it only gets worse.
It all comes to a head on a random Tuesday.
Scott, Jean, and Ororo are off on a mission. The students have all been dismissed from their classes. You’re in the Training Room, working out yet another filthy dream about Logan.
Your fantasies about him have gotten more intense now that you know he doesn’t care about the way your body is. It’s a major, major problem. You’ve started getting dehydrated from the amounts of slick you’re creating.
Which is why you’re in the Training Room instead of getting off. You’re lucky Jean and the Professor haven’t said anything yet, but sooner or later they’re gonna know.
You’re working through your third round of training dummies when a scent catches your attention. Musk and thick smoke. You stop immediately.
“Don’t mind me,” Logan says, a hint of amusement in his gruff tone. “I’m just here to train as well.”
Your hopes for training might as well be ashes in the wind. There is no way you are going to be able to focus on anything other than him.
“Wanna spar?” You ask, false cockiness in your voice.
Instantly your instincts are screaming at you. Challenging the alpha to a fight? You might as well give up your position in the school now. No one challenges an alpha to a fight without a cause behind them.
Excessive horniness apparently didn’t count to your wolf brain. But it did to you.
Logan eyes you. He seems tense; can he smell your light arousal in the air?
“Sure.” You find yourself both relaxing and tensing at his agreement.
You clear the floor and get into your positions. Your instincts start to settle, helping you focus. You take a breath, and move.
The sparring is brutal. Fun and exhilarating, but brutal.
One thing leads to another, and the next thing you know you’re flat on your back. Logan pinning you down. One hand keeping your hands above your head, the other keeping your waist against the floor. His knee nudged between your legs.
You get wet ridiculously fast. You’re panting, gasping for breath, and you can smell your own arousal. You can feel the slick coating your thighs, soaking through your boxers.
You meet Logan’s gaze. Your wolf instincts are mostly quiet for once. Probably because he already has you pinned down. The only thought in your head?
Submit to him.
Logan’s pupils are blown. He’s panting too, and you know he can smell you.
“You into this sort of shit?” He asks, voice hoarse.
You can’t do much against the instincts of your brain. You let your head rest against the floor. “Into you, maybe.”
There’s a moment of silence.
Logan’s voice is rougher than you’ve ever heard it. The sound goes straight to your core.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he growls, “and it’ll never have happened.”
“I want this,” you say, a hint of a whimper in your voice. “Logan, I need—“
His mouth smashes against yours. It’s not pretty, it’s not delicate. He kisses you like he’s starving, ravaging your mouth. Nipping at your lips until the tang of blood fills your mouth.
It’s not pretty, but it makes you oh so wet.
You moan into his mouth, struggling against his hold on you. You want to rake your fingers through his hair, buck up against him, really just anything more than what he’s giving you now.
“Settle down, pup,” he growls.
Your body responds embarrassingly fast. You still, panting into his mouth.
“Please,” you beg, “please, Logan, I need you.”
He smirks. Nudges his knee against your crotch. Even the slight amount of friction feels like heaven and you chase it with a moan.
“Dumb little slut,” he mutters. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh, handsome?”
You just whine, too busy grinding against his knee to answer. You need more. You need more. Why isn’t he giving you more?
“Logan,” your voice breaks, “Please!”
“Please what?” His fingers ghost along the waistband of your pants. “Use your words.”
“Please touch me,” you whimper.
He smirks, his words dripping with condescension. “Good boy.”
You almost cum just from his words alone. And when his fingers dip under your waistband, sliding into your boxers to circle your dick?
Your vision blurs with pleasure, your body squirming underneath him. He doesn’t let up, just keeps rubbing his fingers against you. It’s torture, pure delicious torture.
“Logan!” You sob. “Too much!”
“Too much?” He mocks. “I can fucking smell you, pup. I can smell the amount of slick pouring out of you. It’s not ‘too much’ till I’ve drained every last drop of cum from your dick.”
As if to make his point, he stuffs two fingers inside you, stretching you out and making you sob. When you start to squirm, he shifts, letting go of your hands in favor of pinning down your waist. Keeping you firmly against the floor.
You burrow your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly to keep from screaming as he curls his fingers against that one spot inside you.
It’s exquisite, mind-numbing, perfect.
He bullies his cock inside you after your third orgasm, stretching you out and making you babble mindlessly. You’re a mess on the floor; fucked out, sweaty, and coated in your own slick.
The sounds are obscene, and you hope to god no one outside the room can hear you.
You can barely feel your legs, lost to everything except the pleasure and the feeling of his hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. Over and over and over.
He cums once, and fucks it all back into you. It’s not until you’re literally drooling on the floor that he finally lets up, cumming inside you for the second time.
You whine softly as he pulls out, blearily cracking open your eyes.
“Hush, pup,” he soothes. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
He lifts you into his arms and you nuzzle into his chest. Uncaring about how messy you are, or about the puddle of cum and slick left on the floor.
It’s just Logan for now, and you’re content with that.
