#James Logan howlett smut
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Lover, You Should've Come Over (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)
A/N: Get ready to cry. This is based on a request I received yesterday where the reader gets jealous of Jean. I tried to take this in a different direction just because I feel like this is a popular trope that has been done by many fantastic writers. It's also inspired by "Lover, You Should've Come Over," by Jeff Buckley. Hope you guys enjoy.
Summary: You've been pining after Logan since you joined the X-Men, and you're convinced he'll never love you back. Heâs obsessed with Jeanâalways has been. Or...maybe he's not.
Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV (unprotected...pls WRAP IT UP THIS IS FICTION!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, f!reader/afab!reader, telepathic!reader, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan (kinda? yeah.), non-canon compliant (you'll see what I mean...no spoilers), cursing, angst, feelings, implied mutant trauma (kinda a given in X-Men), probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.
Word Count: 4,197 sorry
Wanting someone you canât haveâitâs that crying in the shower, pulling your legs into your chest, screaming into your pillow kind of heartache. Youâve come to know the feeling intimately. Itâs an awful, horrid, stomach-churning kind of pain.
But you want him. Despite all the pain, you want him. Logan Howlett. You canât seem to keep him off your mind. For the few months youâve been one of the X-Men, Logan has been a constant. Heâs always thereâwhether itâs to train or just to talk. But you know heâll never want you. You see the way he looks at Jean. You wish you didnât. You wish you were oblivious to that sort of thing. But you donât need to use your telepathy to reach inside his mind for proofâyou just know.Â
You keep holding on, savoring every moment, every interaction you have with Logan. You sit on the lawn of the mansion with him, watching the sunset. Youâll come down to the living room late at night to find him sitting in front of the T.V. and join him. Sometimes heâll drape an arm around your shoulder. Heâll draw circles into your side as you drift off. Youâll wake up the next morning back in your bed, Logan having carried you there long after youâve fallen asleep.Â
Youâve decided youâll take all heâll give you, even if it means nothing to himâeven if it's platonic.Â
But tonight, you wish something would come up through the floor and swallow you whole. A void, a black hole maybe. That would do the trick. Disappearing would make everything so much easier. The second-best thing to disappearing is sitting in the kitchen of the mansion, alone, with a pint of ice cream. You decide to practice your powers, moving the silver spoon with your mind, concentrating as you dig the spoon into the top of the pint and into your mouth.Â
You hear a warm, familiar chuckle from the doorway as the spoon lands on your tongue. You look up, and thereâs Logan, arms tucked across his chest. âWish I could do that.â
You canât help but smile around the spoon as he strides over to you, taking a seat on the stool next to yours. You slide the spoon out of your mouth and rest it on the napkin next to the ice cream. âHey,â you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.Â
His shoulder brushes against yours. Heâs so close it hurts. You try to shove the pain down and enjoy the moment.Â
âWas hoping Iâd run into you down here. Thought maybe youâd be in bed already,â Logan says, his eyes locked on yours.Â
You shake your head, doing your best to keep that fake smile plastered on your face. âCouldnât sleep.âÂ
You can see the sudden concern appear on his face. âEverything okay?â He asks, tilting his head to the side. Fuck, you think to yourself. Maybe heâs catching on.Â
âYeah,â you murmur, looking down at the ice cream. âJust still having a hard time adjusting.â It wasnât a lie. You had always struggled with your powers, longing to hide, to shove them down. Your whole life, you were either a freak or something to be usedâwhatever was most convenient in the moment. The struggle between visibility and forcing yourself to be ânormalâ was an impossible battle. You were no stranger to being taken advantage of or being experimented on.
Logan was the first person who understood thatâunderstood you. He made you feel seen in a way that no one ever had. Itâs part of the reason youâve fallen so hard for him.Â
His hand is suddenly on your back, yanking you from your thoughts and back to reality. âIâm here,â he whispers. âWhatever you need, anything.âÂ
Anything. You wish he really meant it.Â
âThanks, Lo.â You smile up at him, letting your eyes linger on his lips for just a second before looking back down at the ice cream. âWant some?â You ask, nodding at the pint.Â
âOnly if you feed it to me the way you did when I walked in.â You can hear the smirk in his voice as he taps the spoon. You side-eye him incredulously. âI mean it. Wanna see you do it again.â Thereâs a husk in his voice, a shift in his timber that sends a chill down your spine. You try not to think about it too much as you pick up the spoon with your mind.Â
You guide the spoon inside the pint, scraping the top, and lifting it up towards Loganâs mouth. He opens wide as you lead the spoon inside, his tongue hitting the bottom as his lips close around it. The implications of the moment donât dawn on you until heâs grabbing the spoon with his hands and sucking on the metal. Thereâs something undeniably suggestive about this.Â
Heat rises to your chest as you replay the image of him taking the spoon into his mouth in your mind. Itâs so intimate, so domestic. And, certainly, something elseâsomething that makes you tick, that makes that familiar fire grow deep within your belly.Â
Butâlike alwaysâthe moment doesnât last long. You wince, feeling someone itching against your thoughts, prodding at your mental shields, begging to be let in. Suddenly, thereâs another voice in your mind.Â
I gotta try that myself. You flinch at the sound, taking the spoon from Loganâs hand and shooting it across the room to where you sense the personâs presence. You turn around, and thereâs Jean, resisting the spoonâs trajectory with her mind.Â
It's almost pressing into her skull, shaking in mid-air, ready to break her skin. You gasp and drop the spoon, embarrassed to have registered her as a threat. âIâm so sorry,â you say, watching as Jean crouches down and picks up the spoon. âI didnât know that was you in there, I swear.â
You expect Logan to stand from the chair and rush over to Jean, but he stays next to you, glued to your side, the palm of his hand resting gently on your back. âJean.â His voice is firm, almost cold and harsh. âWhat was that?â Youâre surprised at how curt heâs being with her, surprised he remembered that youâre sensitive to people probing around your mind, even if itâs friendly.Â
Jean mutters a curse. âI was just communicating with her. I didnât think sheâdââÂ
Logan stands, his hand still steady at your back. âDonât do that again. Ever.â His voice is louder now, heavier.Â
She whispers an apology, setting the spoon on the counter and walking towards the doorway. âI really didnât mean to hurt you,â she says. âI shouldâve remembered given yourâŠâ she pauses, searching for the word, âpastâŠthat it wouldnât be a good idea.â She takes another tentative step. âIâll leave you two alone,â she says, and she slips out.Â
Logan settles back into the stool next to you. Youâre shocked that heâs still here, that he hasnât run away yet. You can hear him breatheâin and outâgentle, long breaths. You close your eyes and listen, the sound calming you down. Youâre still expecting him to leave, to walk away, but he doesnât.Â
âYou okay?â He asks, your eyes fluttering open, his voice hanging in the air. His head is tilted to the side, worry painted across his face.Â
âY-yeah. Iâm fine,â you stutter, your voice cracking. âYou donât have to stay with me. You can go check on her if you want.â You nod towards the doorwayâto wherever Jean wandered off to.Â
âAnd why would I do that?â Is all he says in return, furrowing his brows.Â
You put on that fake smile again. âI almost jammed a spoon into her forehead because she spoke to me telepathically.â You shake your head. âDonât really think my reaction was particularly friendlyâor something that good people do.â You break eye contact with Logan and look to the other side of the kitchen. âPlus, you two areâŠclose.â
âHey.â His voice is firm again, but gentle this time, reassuring. His hand slips across your back and rests on your waist. Youâre so shocked by the contact that you almost miss what he says. âFirst of all, she knows better. Charles warned her about what youâve been through. And secondâŠâ He trails off, smirking at you. âIâd rather be with you.â
Oh? Oh. Heâd rather be with you.Â
âI just thought, you know, you and Jean wereâŠâ Youâre too embarrassed to finish the sentence and too nervous to hear him say the words youâve been dreading most.Â
He shakes his head, that smirk still spread across his lips. âNo, itâs not Jean I want. Never has been.âÂ
Your breathing becomes shakyâyour heart beating rapidly in your chest. âIf itâs not Jean, thenââÂ
Logan cuts you off as he suddenly moves. His arm lifts from your waist as he stands, turning your stool around so your back is against the cold countertop. Heâs gripping the arms of the stool now, caging you in. Your mind is hazyâyou canât concentrate with him this close.Â
âYou think I do the shit I do with you with Jean too, hm?â Heâs towering over you, his head cocking to the side, his voice self-assured and confident. âThink Iâm watching movies and sunsets with her? Carrying her to bed, too?âÂ
Youâre overwhelmed, dizzied by his words, his size, him. âJust thought thatââ
âJust thought what?â He cuts you off again. âThat I didnât want you, darlinâ?â He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, one hand moving from the counter to your hip. âWanted you this whole time,â he huffs, goosebumps rising on your arms. âOnly you.â He presses a kiss to your ear, and then just underneath your jaw.Â
âLogan,â you whisper. âW-want you too,â you choke out, your hands coming up and around his back. âB-but someoneâs gonna walk in on us.âÂ
Heâs ignoring you, biting your pulse point lightly and licking the pain away. âLet them,â he husks, refusing to stop. You instinctively bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, your nails digging in slightly. He groans at the contact, his chest heaving against yours.Â
âOne of the kids is catch us in here, or somebody else,â you mutter, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. âW-we shouldââ
âGo to my room.â He finishes your thought.Â
âPlease.âÂ
And then heâs picking you up from the chair, his hands under your thighs, grabbing your ass. You wrap your legs around his waist as he prowls out of the kitchen. He looks both ways as he crosses the hallway and makes his way to the stairs. Thereâs no one in sight. He carries you up the steps and down the hall to his room, practically breaking down the door as he swings it open and slams it shut.Â
And then heâs laying you down on his bed, crawling over you, pressing his forehead against yours. âWanted you in here sooner,â he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours. âHoped youâd come over one night. You shouldâve.â
His lips crash down onto yours before you can find the words to say. Heâs starving for you, swallowing your moans as his hands slip under your shirt, his nails digging lightly into your sides. âSo fucking beautiful,â he rasps against your lips. Everything is desperate and rushed, hands pawing at bare skin in the dim light of his room.Â
Logan tugs on the hem of your shirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the side as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He curses under his breath, looking you up and down.Â
âLogan,â you whine, arching your back. You need his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything.Â
âI know, pretty girl,â he soothes, his fingers hooking inside the waistband of your shorts. âGonna take care of you.â He yanks them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties.Â
He pulls off his own shirt, tossing it carelessly, letting it get lost on the floor. He settles back down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand finds your waist. He slides up to the bottom of your bra, teasingly pulling on the fabric before slipping his hand behind your backâskillfully unclasping the bra with one easy motion. You arch your back again, the bra straps sliding down your arms as Logan tosses the bra to the floor, too.Â
âFuck,â he mumbles, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. âPerfect.â He captures your lips in another kiss as his thumb ghosts over your nipples, just barely giving you the relief you need before pinching softly. The pressure feels so good, so right, but itâs not enough.Â
He draws circles around your nipples with his thumb, the sensation feeding the aching fire between your legs. Your hips involuntarily lift off the mattress, meeting his. âNeed me that bad, huh?â He is always so incredibly cocky, even nowâespecially now. He knows exactly what heâs doing to you, and what to do next.Â
Logan grinds his erection into your core. You can feel how big he is, the weight of him heavy against your cunt even in his jeans. You clench around nothing, whining his name as his strained cock teases your panty-clad pussy. âYou want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?â
âY-yes,â you stutter, biting your lips as his hand leaves your tits and sweeps down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He slides his fingers down just a bit more, feeling where your arousal seeps through your panties.Â
âAlready soaking for me, sweetheart.â The bassy timber of his voice stokes that flame deep within your belly. Without warning, heâs hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your legs. âCanât wait anymore, pretty girl,â he whispers. âWanna taste this pussy.â He kisses your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travels to where you need him most.Â
Thereâs something depraved about the way heâs crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spreads your legs apart with the palms of his handsâhis thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settles in between them.Â
He pauses, looking at you under hooded eyes. You can see the wantâno, the needâin the way his muscles flex and how he works his jaw. But heâs hesitating, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your eyes searching his for his next move.Â
He finally presses a kiss to your clit. âYou donât understand how you make me feel,â he mumbles against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. âNo idea how long Iâve fucking wanted you.â You throw your head back, whimpering his name as he laps again and again. Heâs starving, and youâre the only thing that can satiate his hunger. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard.Â
Your hips lift off the mattress and Logan quickly moves to hold them down. âYouâre not going anywhere, darlinâ,â he grunts against you, the vibration of his voice going straight to your core.Â
His free hand slips up the inside of your thighs, teasingly climbing higher and higher, his nails skimming your flesh. Heâs toying with you, leading you on, taking his time. His fingers finally ghost over your folds, exploring you, stroking up and down as his tongue laps at your cunt.Â
Logan prods your entrance with two fingers, slipping in just a bit, testing the waters. âPlease,â you beg, pushing your hips down in an attempt to sink his fingers deeper into you. He stops you, his hand still firmly holding your hips down, refusing to give you the release youâre dying for.Â
âSo fucking impatient, arenât you?â He tuts. And then heâs shoving two fingers all the way inside you, down to his knuckles. âSuch a pretty pussy.â
âF-fuck!â You cry out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets a relentless pace. Heâs drinking you in, sucking roughly, his long fingers pumping in and out with a vengeance.Â
ââThis what you wanted, pretty girl?â He asks condescendingly in between laps. Youâre too fucked out to form a sentence, your legs trembling underneath him. You know heâs loving thisâloving that youâre a wet, needy, whimpering mess.Â
Your walls squeeze around his fingers, your swollen clit throbbing as he laps at you. Youâre so close already. âLo,â you call out, fisting the sheets of his bed. Everything in here smells like him: pine and mint and musk and tobacco and that thing thatâs uniquely Logan. Itâs all so overwhelming and overstimulating. Youâre ready to fall apart, to melt into nothingness. âS-so close.â
He squeezes your hip. âI know, sweetheart,â he soothes, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion he does so well. Your walls flutter again. âThatâs it,â he coos. âWanna feel you comeâwanna know what it tastes like.â He licks harder, faster. âLet go for me, darlinâ.âÂ
He pushes you over the edge, pleasure warming your belly as you let go. It washes over you in waves, his fingers still pumping in and out, his tongue still hanging on to the taste of you. You ride it out, his thumb brushing your hip, coaxing you through it. His fingers slip out of your cunt, but his head is still buried between your legs. You shudder as he licks long, slow stripes through your folds.Â
âSo fucking sweet,â he growls, still starving for more. âNot done with you yet.â
Fuck.Â
But you need moreâneed his cock deep inside you, pounding into you. You need him in front of you, his lips on yours.Â
âLogan,â you whine, your voice shaky and trembling just like the rest of your body. He finally lifts his head, his hair a disheveled mess, your juices glistening on his lips and his chin. The sight of him makes your breath hitch in your throat. Thereâs a feral, needy look in his eyes. Heâs starving for more of you, and youâre not quite sure heâll ever get enough.Â
But he can see your chest heaving and the desire in your own eyes. He knows what you needâhe always does. He sits up on his knees, staring at you while he slowly unbuckles his belt. The tension is palpable, the clinking of his belt against the hardwood floors cutting through it like a hot knifeâthe only sounds the melding of your quick breaths and the shuffling of bed sheets as Logan finally comes up to meet you.Â
He's balancing on his forearm as he unbuttons his jeans, undoing the zipper and shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs. You swallow at the sight of his cock springing against his stomach. You had felt his erection before, but he is far bigger than you ever anticipated.Â
With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself in between your thighs. You instinctually spread your legs for him, inviting him in. He nudges against your entrance, taking his time.Â
His forehead meets yours, your chests flush against each otherâs, panting in sync. Youâre both waiting with bated breath, his tip slipping inside, but stopping short before going any farther.Â
His Adamâs apple bobs in his throat. âThought Iâd never have you,â he confesses, pushing his tip a bit further in. âWouldâve given up anything for this. Wouldâve waited forever.â
âYou donât have to,â you murmur.  âIâm right here. Iâm yours.âÂ
âMine?â
âAll yours.â
And then heâs pushing deep inside you, down to the hilt, bottoming out. He swallows your moans with a kiss, biting your lip, drawing blood, and licking it away. âAll fucking mine.â He stays buried inside you, unmoving. âWanna stay inside you forever, sweetheart,â he growls, your heart bursting at the thought.
He pulls himself all the way out and all the way back in, stretching you out, working you open. You look down in between your bodies and watch as his cock disappears inside of you. âFeels s-so fucking good,â you stammer, already drunk off him.Â
âLike watching me fuck into you?â Logan husks, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours.Â
âY-yes,â you whimper. His muscles flex as he ruts into you. He takes the hand that was on his cock and brings it in between your bodies, his fingertips quickly finding your clit and giving it a soft pinch. Your back arches off the mattress at the sensation.Â
Logan hums at your reaction. âSo sensitive,â he groans. âTaking me so good, sweetheart.â You can feel him losing control as he rams into you, his thrusts growing harder with each pump of his cock. Heâs drawing firm, fast circles into your core.Â
Itâs all too much, him, his cock, his fingers. Your skin is on fire, your nipples pushing against his chestâthe friction absolutely delicious. Youâre already so close, just a few steps away from the ledge, and youâre ready to fall.Â
âKnow youâre close, darlinâ,â Logan moans in between kisses. âCan feel you squeezing me.âÂ
You hum in response, but Logan refuses to let up. His pace is beyond brutal, pounding into you over and over again, his fingers working your clit in tandem. Your muscles contract around him, gripping tightly.Â
âThatâs it,â he murmurs. âSo fucking tight, so fucking warm.â His praises are more than you can handle. âYou gonna come on my cock, just like this?âÂ
âYes, fuck, Logan!â Youâre a babbling mess, his name the only thing on your mind, on your lips, hanging in the air like itâs a sacred prayer. Everything is him, and it always has been. In this moment and in every other, he is your end and your beginning.Â
 âLet go for me, sweetheart. Know you can do it for me.â His deep voice is all you need to walk you through it. Youâre breaking down, coming on his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, spreading like an untamable fire.Â
Heâs stroking your clit long after youâve come, still snapping his hips into yours, still working up towards his own orgasm. His pace is getting sloppier, but he shows no signs of stopping. You can feel yourself growing overstimulated, his cock rubbing against your walls, his fingers circling your clit. âSâtoo much,â you whine, your nails digging into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist.Â
Logan presses himself closer to you, as close as he possibly can be. âYouâve got one more in you, sweetheart,â he coaxes, not letting up. âKnow you can take it.â
Youâre breathless, clinging onto him helplessly. Youâre clamping down on him again, taking him deeper than you did before. Heâs hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. âLo,â you whimper. âIâm gonnaââ
âI know, darlinâ,â he grunts. You can feel him throbbing inside you. âLet it happen, Iâve got you. Iâm not going anywhere.âÂ
The tension is snapping again, breaking in half as he pulls another orgasm from you. You shudder as you come for a third time, overstimulated and beyond fucked out. You know heâs close behind, his hips slowing down, his forehead pressed against yours. He slips his hand away from your clit and around your back, pulling you closer to his chest. Itâs so intimate, so perfect.Â
âF-fuck,â he mumbles. âWhere do you want me toââ
You hold him closer. âStay,â you whisper. âWant you inside. Wanna feel you come.â
âOh fuck,â he mutters, plunging deep inside you, his muscles tensing as he fills you up, your name on his lips. His thrusts slow, pumping in and out every now and then before finally stopping.Â
You stay like this for a few minutes, his arm keeping you tight against his chest, his cock still buried inside you and your foreheads still pressed together.Â
He brings a hand up to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. You sigh, your eyes fluttering open and closed.Â
He shakes his head. âI always wanted you,â he says, his voice low and raspy. âThe whole time. It was only ever you.âÂ
His words could make you cry. Itâs everything youâve ever hoped to hear. You smile, his hand finding its way to the crook of your neck, his fingers lightly stroking your sensitive skin. âCanât believe I didnât see it,â you breathe, your voice laden with sleepiness. âI never knew. Thought youâd never want me.â
âIâll always want you.â His cock finally slips out of you, leaving you feeling empty. His legs tangle with yours, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. âWouldâve waited forever for you, darlinâ.â
âForever?â
âLonger.â
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just need to give old man logan some love yk, let him rest his head on some titties and bandage his wounds and also suck his dick
oh i understand you completely, sweetpea! i hope you enjoy my thoughts on your headcanons! ᥣđ©
nsfw (minors do NOT interact, please)â age gap (all my readers are 21+!), oral (male recieving), objectification of female body parts, tad bit of dacryphilia & dumbification, "kid" used as an affectionate nickname, logan being infatuated <3
logan is absolutely a tits man, i don't make the rules! he loves to watch them heave in your suit when you're out of breath on a mission, or bouncing as you descend the stairsâ you name it, his eyes are occupied with you. a lot of times you catch him staring down your shirt, whispering to himself "so soft" as he ogles your cleavage. and when you're sitting away from him, back facing him as you rest on a rickety wooden chair, watching out of the window, he'll come up behind you, big hands gripping your chest harshly in his warm, calloused palms before tutting "missed my girls" with a big squeeze. <3
and you bandaging him after a mission gone wrong? he'll whine out "ah jesus christ- i'm fine doll, really" and you'll fuss over him even more.... but guess what? he secretly loves when you fuss over him. giving him all your attention and touching him so gently while scolding him for getting himself hurt. granted, he will heal instantly because of his mutation, but just imagine him getting a random nose bleed in the middle of the night. you cooing "oh honey, lemme help you" and, like always, he'll feel like he needs to push the love away, but he'll relent for you. always and only for you. he'll sit on the toilet seat lid, one leg extended out in the small bathroom while his other stays bent so you can sit on it. he likes seeing your eyes widen, hearing your little gasps and the sweet, genuine hearts in your eyes when you get to hold him and provide for him for once. and he just can't stop himself, squeezing your ass and thighs as you hold the tissue to his nose "'m all better now babydoll, promise. see?" before raising his hand to the back of your neck and lightly pulling you forward, the ghost of a "c'mon gimme a kiss... so good to me... so good to your old man" on his lips. ahhhh!!!!!
and when it comes to head? logan is sooooo cocky. i mean, naturally he loves how sweet you are to him; how absolutely and utterly loving and obsessed you are with him. and trust me, he feels the exact same way, maybe even a little more than you, too. he'd absolutely hold your cheeks in his palms, cradling you as you suckle at him with teary eyes and red knees. his thumbs will rub against the apple of your cheeks, and he'll do his best to hold eye contact, even though he desperately feels the need to flutter his eyelids and groan so loud that the entire ground shakes. manspreading, he'll move and jut his hips out with a hiss, whispering "fuckin' good, always so fuckin' good... you hearin me, kid?" and that's when he'll notice the stars in your eyes. sure, you always look at him with a dazed gaze, able to let down your guard and fully be in your element from dating such an intimidating, but gentle and masculine man. but this, this is a different look. a look that shows just how far gone you are. spit on your chin, tears on your cheeks and some of his precum resting on the tip of your nose. so dumb for him. this alone makes him cry out, his head rolling back, his thick neck stretching & his eyes squeezing shut after he finally can't take anymore and tears them away from you with an "ah, ah fuck ah fuck!" as he finishes with his hands holding your head completely stillâ wanting you to take him all. and once he catches his breath, his hands stay there, a gruff "cmon baby.. cmon eat me up, know you can" until you swallow for him... <3
#this was soooo fun i hope you like this anon! :)#logan âđâËâčâĄ#logan howlett smut#logan howlett x reader#wolverine smut#wolverine x reader#james logan howlett x reader#james logan howlett smut
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ravish part 3
hitchhiker!readerxperv!loganhowlett
a/n: this is the final part of the ravish series! hope you guys enjoyed it <3 T
wc: 6k
NSFW
18+ MDNI | age gap,oral sex, p in v intercourse, and sexual themes
summary: Y/N goes to Logan's cabin in Canada while she waits for him to return from Mexico. during her stay, she finds some personal mementos that give her a deeper understanding of who he really is.
"...I ain't gonna tell you again, kid, it's too dangerous." He grunted, smoothing down his beard with a hand in frustration. The roughness in his voice matched the irritation in his eyes.
You stood in front of the doorway, blocking him.Â
"Why are you going if you're so concerned about safety? What if something happens to you?" you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly.Â
You werenât just challenging him; you were demanding an explanation, the truth, something he couldnât dodge with huffs and empty commands.
At the crack of dawn, you had ambushed Logan, catching him off guard before he could slip away into the shadows.Â
The plan was simple.
Today, you werenât separating paths; You had decided, and you werenât about to let him just walk out without a fight.
But Logan, true to his protective nature, instantly shot down your idea, brushing it off. And now the two of you were standing there, bickering by the front door, each trying to make the other see their perspective.
"Because I can take it. You? Not so much. Now move, I gotta be somewhere." His voice was low and raspy, carrying a weight that was hard to argue with.
 He took a heavy step forward making the boards creak underneath him. He meant business, and you could tell he wasnât in the mood to play games.
But you werenât about to back down.Â
"Then when am I going to see you again? If I can't go with you, how do I get in touch with you? You don't have a cell phone. Is there an address I can write to you?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them.
You reached out, gently touching his chest, feeling the heavy beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to stop him in his tracks.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound almost a sigh of resignation. For a moment, the harsh lines of his face softened, and he looked at you with hurt as if he heard you for the first time this morning.Â
You both shared a look of longing before you cut the silence.
"I'm not being this adamant because I want to meet up again to fuck... I told you I liked you, Logan. If you leave for Mexico and we never see each other again, we won't get to explore this. I know you like me too." You slid your hand up to rest where his neck and shoulder meet.Â
"You're right sweetheart, I do....a lot... It's just, I don't know when I'll be back," he said, his voice low and careful as if trying to choose the right words. "This type of thing... it can take a while." He looked down at you through his dark lashes.
He was leaving, without you.
The pressure in your chest subsided, and from the hand he placed on your waist you knew he was also upset.
 "Do you want to see me again?" You mumbled softly.
"Of course I do." His hands came up on your shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring. Logan pulled you in and pressed a long kiss on the top of your head. The warmth of his lips calmed every nerve in your body.Â
He pulled away, steady, as always, but there was something in his eyes that told you this was just as hard for him as it was for you.
 "But I'm sorry, you can't come. I'd never forgive myself if something would happen to you."Â
"Then I'll wait for you," you said, your voice calmer.
 "...Just give me a place to meet you. I don't care how long it'll take...I'll get by... I always do." You looked into his eyes, searching for some sign that he believed you, that he understood just how serious you were.
"You'll wait f'me?" His voice was softer now, almost uncertain as if he couldn't quite believe what you were saying. The gears in Logan turned as he thought of something.
"Yes, anywhere, I'll wait," you answered without hesitation.
He paused, considering your words, then nodded slowly.
"How about Canada?"Â
Two weeks of walking, drives, train rides and taxis. That's what it took you to get to Logan's place in Deer Lake, Alberta.
 The journey up north was a first for you, an adventure into a new landscape that felt almost picturesque.
The countryside was a living canvas; Gorgeous snow-tipped mountains towered In the distance, tucked behind miles and miles of lush trees and massive lakes that shimmered reflections of a deep sapphire blue.
Logan's homeâa cabinâwas located deep within an untamed forest. The remoteness of the location was astonishing, so far away from any civilization, you wondered how he survived the winters alone; the taxi driver had only been able to take you so far before the road disappeared into the wild grass, leaving nothing but a rough trail that was impassable for a vehicle.Â
From there, it was up to you to make the final trek on foot.
As you walked, the gravel crunched beneath you, the sound was oddly comforting in the quiet of the forest. The air was crisp and clean, breathing had suddenly become easier in the forest. The scent of pine and cedar filled your nostrils, clearing your sinuses from any blockage they might've had.
Approaching the cabin, you noticed scattered logs and woodworking tools lying around the property. You pieced together that Logan had built this place with his own bare hands. The mess in the yard was evidence of the hard work that had gone into building this place. Each log and nail was a hommage to his skill and stubbornness.Â
Of course, Logan built his own house, you mumbled.Â
Your mouth fell open in awe as you took in the sight of the cabin. It was more than just a structureâit was the product of Logan's blood, sweat, and tears.
 There was something deeply personal about it, something that made you feel honoured to be allowed into this part of his life. This wasnât just a cabin, it was his getaway from all the bad things in his life.
The cabin, his home, was a mirror image of himârugged, enduring, and built to withstand the harshest elements.
Stepping onto the front porch, your hand grazed over the smooth wooden railings of the stairs. His craftsmanship was impeccable, each detail was carefully considered, and each board was perfectly placed. Logan had picked the perfect area to carve out for himself in this remote corner of the world.
You inserted the key he had given you before he left into the doorknob and twisted. After hearing the faint clicking noise, you pushed it open to reveal the inside.Â
His home was open-concept, the entrance positioned right between the kitchen and the living room. To your left, a maroon leather loveseat sat next to a matching recliner, both perfectly aligned to face a stone-built fireplace that reached up to the ceiling.Â
The walls were decorated with Indigenous paintings, each one a cultural tapestry of the land. The artwork depicted vibrant scenes of nature and various animal spirits.
To your right was a modest kitchenette, equipped with all the essentials for a life lived simply but comfortably. The centrepiece was the sturdy table and chair set that appeared to be handmade, most likely by Logan himself.Â
As you ventured deeper into the space, you spun slowly in a circle, trying to take it all in, it was gorgeous. You could feel him within these walls.
 The air carried a faint, lingering scent of his cigars, a comforting reminder of him. You wondered how long it had been since he was last here, sitting by the fire, drink in hand, perhaps lost in thought.Â
You entered his bedroom with a gentle push of the door, revealing a space that mirrored the simple functionality of the rest of the cabin. Like the other rooms, it was decked out with only the essentials for comfort. A large bed, a handmade dresser that stood against the wall, its wood polished smooth from years of use. There was a spacious closet, probably filled with his few belongings, and a small nightstand with a simple lamp casting a soft, warm glow.
On the nightstand, you noticed an ashtray filled with grey dust.
I wonder how many lonely nights he spent in here, you thought.
Exhausted from the long journey, you decided to call it a night. You plopped down onto Loganâs bed, the mattress was firm but welcoming and pulled the blankets around you.Â
The scent of the cabin wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. As your head sank into the pillow, you found yourself drifting off almost immediately, surrounded by the quiet peace of Loganâs space.
Miss you, You mumbled before closing your eyes for the night.
Two weeks since your arrival:
Days at the cabin seemed to blend together, slipping by with an ease that was both comfortable and foreign.
 Youâd been on the road for most of your short life, always on the go, always searching for the next big thing.
 But here, in this secluded corner of the world, you found yourself settling into a routineâsomething you hadnât realized you craved. The mundane act of daily chores became almost therapeutic.
You had begun exploring around the cabin, finding hidden trails that led you all over the place. One path led you to a nearby town, a small, quaint place where life moved at a slower pace. The townspeople were friendly, their lives seemingly untouched by the chaos of the world.
 You frequented the local general store for groceries, picking up a few items and some clothes to better suit this colder climate. The change in scenery was drastic for you, but you found yourself adapting, maybe even enjoying the peace that came with it.
As the days passed, the cabin began to feel like your own. The once unfamiliar space became a place of comfort, each creak of the floorboards and crackle of the fire made you unwind.Â
You decided to take on some of the household choresâtasks that probably didnât come naturally to Logan.
 Spring cleaning became your mission, tackling the tedious details he might overlook. You wiped down the insides of kitchen drawers, scrubbed the fridge, and tossed out any expired food. It felt good to take care of these small things, you were kind of being a little housewife, preparing the home for Logan's arrival.
One afternoon, while organizing the kitchen, your fingers brushed against something tucked away in the back of a drawer.Â
You decided to pull it out and realized it was an old map, the paper worn and creased from what seemed years of use.Â
As you unfolded it, you noticed several locations marked in red ink. The meaning of these places was a mystery, and despite studying the map for a long while, you couldnât decipher their significance.Â
Japan, Madripoor, Northern Canada, Mexico,
Puzzled, you left the map on the table. The idea was that maybe if you came back to it later, you'd see something you hadn't noticed in the first place.Â
The thought occurred to you to ask Logan about it when he returned. Would he have a simple explanation or go back to shooting it down?
Over the following days, you found yourself returning to it, your fingers tracing the lines and paths, your mind wandering to what expeditions or memories these marks represented.
In these moments, you couldn't help but think,Â
Heâs no handyman, thatâs for sure.
Three Weeks since your arrival:Â
As you prepared for bed one night, the soft glow of the lamp illuminated the room in a gentle, amber light. During your bedtime routine, something caught your eyeâa glint of metal in the corner of the room, just beside the dresser on the floor.
 Curious, you approached and discovered a set of dog tags lying on the floor, half-hidden beneath a loose floorboard.
The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning.Â
Logan had been in the military.Â
It was a part of his past you had no clue about, a fragment of his story that added depth to the riddle that was him. You had sensed that one night there was a darkness within him, but now, seeing these tags, you began to understand the source of that shadowâhis time as a soldier, the battles fought, and the scars born.Â
Tears welled up in your eyes as you gently traced your thumb over the engravings on the tags. Each mark and number seemed to hold trauma, something that represented his time, far away from the peace of the cabin. You tried to imagine the weight of these tags around his neck during those times of darkness, and it filled you with sadness.
With a shaky breath, you wiped the tears from your cheeks. In this moment you were feeling an inexplicable connection to him through this small, metallic relic. A part of you wanted to honour his remarkable selflessness. You slipped the chain over your head and let the tags rest against your chest, giving them a gentle squeeze, a small gesture of comfort as you tried to steady the storm of emotions inside you.
The thought of Logan facing any dangers far away in Mexico seemed almost unbearable. The weight of the dog tags felt like a physical reminder of the challenges he faced, the unknown threats he confronted, and the loneliness that came with his life of constant danger.Â
He survived in the past, he'll survive again. You told yourself.
You longed to have him next to you in bed, to offer him a comforting hug, but the miles that separated you felt like an eternity away.
Four Weeks since your arrival:Â
After a successful day of fishing at the lake, you returned home, enthusiastic and sopping wet from an unexpected stumble into the water. Your clothing clung to you and the chilly evening air covered your body in goosebumps. You hurried inside, eager to change into some dry clothes.
Loganâs wardrobe provided a relief. You rummaged through his drawers, searching for something comfortable to wearâa t-shirt, a pair of pyjama pants, and socks. The familiar feel of his clothes was oddly comforting, a small link to him while he was so far away. After all he did only own multiples of the same clothing articles.Â
As you dug deeper into the drawer, your fingers brushed against something unexpected. You pulled out a Polaroid photo, slightly crumpled and tucked away behind other items. Intrigued, you examined it more closely.
The image was of a dark-haired woman with hazel eyes, seductively bound with ropes, completely nude and captured in a moment of intimacy. The rawness and vulnerability of the photo struck a jealous chord, and for a moment, you were taken aback. The womanâs identity didn't make sense to you at all, you knew Logan was single, and there was nothing left of a female in the cabin. Even though it might've been an old girlfriend, the discovery stirred a mix of emotionsâcuriosity, surprise, and discomfort.Â
You couldnât help but wonder about the context of the photo.Â
Was this someone important to him?Â
Did he hold onto the photo for special meaning or as a memory for him?
 Your mind raced with questions, each one feeling deeper and more personal. The photograph was intimate and private. It felt like a glimpse into a side of Logan you hadnât seen beforeâone that was carefree, open and playful.Â
Feeling a surge of conflicting emotions, you gently set the photo back to where it belonged, buried under piles of socks. The photo had given you a lot to think about, and you couldnât shake the feeling that it was just one more piece of Loganâs past that you were uncovering from spending time in his home.
As you slipped into the dry clothes, the warmth of the t-shirt and pyjama pants was comforting, but the image lingered in your thoughts, leaving you with more questions than answers about the man whose home you now shared.
Six Weeks since your arrival:
You were determined to light a fire inside the cabin tonight. But first thing first, you now needed to chop firewood since you had used up all of Logan's. You enjoyed the luxury of a nice warm fireplace every night and that wasn't going to end anytime soon.Â
 The task was tougher than you anticipated. You huffed as you dragged some of the smaller logs onto the chopping block. You hoisted it up on it with all your might, wincing as you felt the rough bark scrape against your palms. The pain was sharp but didn't last long as you wiped the blood on your clothes, focusing on the task at hand. You had become a woman of the forest.
You picked up the axe, its weight heavy in your hands. Hoisting it above your head, you struggled to keep it steady. With a deep breath, you brought it down with all your might. The axeâs iron head split through the wood with a satisfying thunk, sending the splintered halves flying, making a metallic clang echo beneath one of the pieces as it hit the ground.
 Curious, you crouched down and peered underneath. To your astonishment, you discovered a hidden hatch covered by dirt and twigs. Your heart raced with excitement and curiosity. Dust clouded the air as you tugged the hatch open, revealing a narrow space underground.
You dropped to all fours and stuck your head down into the hatch, your breath mingling with the musty scent of hidden secrets. The space below was dimly lit by daylight filtering through the hatch, but even in the low light, you could make out the outline of a well-organized stash.
Inside, you found a collection of weaponsâvarious blades and firearms neatly arranged and meticulously maintained. There were combat knives with polished handles, tactical pistols, and rifles of different calibres. Given Loganâs past military service, it made sense that he would keep a well-stocked arsenal on his property, even if it was hidden away for safety. Though it didn't seem completely out of the realm of expectations, the amount of weapons did make you question why he felt he needed that many.Â
Had he needed to use them recently?Â
Was he supplying a team or working alone?Â
Even though you knew Logan was involved in violent organizations now, you still could not bring yourself to fear him. Your gut just kept on assuring you that he was a good guy and meant no harm to you. You also trusted his judgement, he had a kind heart and you were positive that if he were to hurt someone it would be for their good.Â
With a final look at the hidden stash, you turned back to your woodpile, the task at hand feeling somehow more significant now. As you continued to chop the wood, your mind replayed the countless questions you now had for Logan upon his arrival.Â
Eight Weeks since your arrival:
You were rummaging through the cabin, searching for batteries for Logan's radio. The radio had become a comforting presence during your stay, its music, a soothing aid against the isolation and the creeping paranoia that sometimes cropped on you. The constant thought of being alone in the vast wilderness, with the constant worry of a wild animal breaking through the door, made the staticky tunes a necessity for your sanity.
After scouring every possible location, you were down to your last hopeâthe top shelf of Loganâs closet. Balancing on your tiptoes, you stretched your arm up, hoping to feel the familiar shape of a battery package. Instead, your hand brushed against something sharp. You pulled your hand back quickly, wincing as you noticed a shard of glass embedded in your fingertip.
Curiosity got the better of you.Â
Determined, you grabbed a kitchen chair and carefully positioned it beneath the closet shelf. You climbed onto the chair and reached up again, this time with more caution, and found the source of the sharp sensationâa broken picture frame.
Carefully, you lifted the frame and inspected it, noticing the fragments of glass that had scattered around. You set the frame gently on the floor, making sure not to cut yourself further, and turned it over to reveal the photograph behind the glass.
The picture was old and slightly faded, but it was clear enough to see the faces of those it depicted. Logan was in the center, surrounded by X-Men members you recognized: Jean Grey, with her vibrant red hair; Cyclops, his visor unmistakable even in this casual setting; and Storm, her white hair flowing with almost ethereal grace. They were all posed together, their faces lit with genuine smiles and laughter, capturing a good, warm moment.
As you examined the photo, a wave of realization washed over you. You had heard of the X-Men in stories and legends, but you had never imagined Logan was connected to them, let alone be one of them. The presence of these iconic figures, the heroes you had only known through tales and news reports, was a clear indication that Logan was once part of something extraordinary.
This photograph was more than just a snapshot; it was a revelation of his identity. Logan was not just a lonely man with a mysterious pastâhe was a mutant, a member of the X-Men, a hero with a legacy that spanned beyond what you had ever understood. The contrast between the vibrant camaraderie of the photo and the isolated, battle-worn figure you knew was striking.
What in the world had led him to such loneliness and solitude?Â
Why was the picture broken, had he done that to it?Â
As you held the frame, you felt sympathy and awe. This discovery added a new layer of complexity to your understanding of him. These were the people who had shaped him, and it deepened your appreciation for them.
You were fast asleep until the bedroom door creaked open, and your eyelids flew open in response.
Logan.
You turned over to turn on the lamp.
His complexion had deepened from the sun in Mexico, and his hair had grown out a bit, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He looked down at you with tired eyes and a soft, relieved smile. You had fulfilled your promise and waited for him.Â
"Logan," you rasped, your voice thick with sleep. You had been waiting for this moment for weeks.
"Hi, baby. Sorry I woke you," he whispered, approaching you and kneeling beside the bed. His hand reached out to brush some stray hairs away from your face, a tender gesture that made your heart swell.
You didnât care about being woken up. Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He returned it with equal strength, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you as if he might never let go.Â
You inhaled deeply, taking in his scentâdifferent, altered by time and distance, yet still undeniably him. His hand slid behind your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he cradled you against him.
"I missed you so much," you mumbled into his shirt, your voice muffled by the fabric but laced with raw emotion. You couldnât bring yourself to loosen your grip on him.
"So did I, princess," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He gently nudged you back, signalling for you to look at him.
You met his hazel eyes with your own, now glistening with tears. He used his thumb to gently wipe away a tear that had escaped down your cheek before pulling you into a passionate kiss, one filled with longing and love.Â
His lips claimed yours hungrily, his hands cupping your face, holding you in place as if to make up for all the lost time. You melted into him, surrendering to the moment, to the feel of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the warmth of his touch.
For the past two months, he had thought of you every single day, the memory of you his constant companion amid chaos. There were moments when he had considered abandoning everything just to return to you, but he knew the importance of his mission. He had told himself that if he could endure the pain, and the heartache of being away, he would be rewarded with the sweetest reunion.
His lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw, planting soft kisses along the way. He found the sensitive spot on your neck, and you couldnât suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your fingers instinctively gripped the back of his neck, holding him closer, wanting more. The sensation of his touch after so long sent chills down your spine, a reminder of the connection you shared. You tilted your head back, giving him full access, and his mouth left warm, wet trails on your skin as he explored further.
But then, without warning, he suddenly pulled away. You let out a small whine at the loss of his warmth, your eyes searching for his.
His gaze had dropped to your chest, his brows furrowed in concentration.
"Lo?" you asked softly, following his gaze. Then you saw itâthe dog tags.
His fingers traced the ball chain with a calloused touch, the metal cool against your skin as he followed its curve. You felt a shiver run through you, not just from the contact but from the significance of the moment.
"I found them," you said quietly, placing your hand over his, pressing it to your chest, where your heartbeat had begun to race. "I had no clue that you had served... You know, I learned a lot about you while you were gone."
He didnât respond immediately, just kept his eyes down, focused on your hands entwined over the dog tags.
"What did you learn?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I know who you are, Logan... I know what you are, and I'm not scared," you said, your voice trembling with sincerity.
 "I have an idea of what you were doing down in Mexico, and I know you have the best intentions at heart. I trust you and your judgment. So, if you had to... hurt people... there, I know itâs because they deserved it. I'm not going anywhere, Logan. I'm just happy you're back and safe."
He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. "You sure?" he asked, his voice filled with a vulnerability that took you by surprise.
You nodded, your eyes locking onto his with unwavering determination.
 "I'm sure. You're home now, and that's all that matters to me. I'm all yours," You pulled him in for another kiss.Â
Logan's fire lit within him:Â you were all his.Â
He matched your energy once more, feeding the primal hunger that had been eating at him all this time. Your lips locked and tongues trailed on top of each other in ecstasy. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth before biting down on it gently as he had taught you. He groaned in your mouth, gripping your hips tightly, his nails dug into your sides.Â
"Lay down baby," He mumbled against your lips. You obliged, letting your back fall on the mattress, Logan hovered over you, taking in the sight of your body. His eyes trailed up and down, savouring every inch of your body for his memory.Â
"You're so fucking pretty," He cooed resuming his place on your neck. You flinched from the sudden stimulation, a surprised moan escaping your lips.Â
He licked his way down to the neckline of your shirt, you gripped the sheets behind you as the excitement built in your lower abdomen.Â
With a swift, almost imperceptible movement, Logan extended his arm, and you heard a metallic *snikt* as his claws slid out from between his knuckles. The room, which had been filled with the warmth of your reunion, now hummed with a different kind of energyâsomething raw and vulnerable.
You stared, wide-eyed, as the three gleaming metal blades emerged from his hand, each one impossibly sharp and perfectly aligned. They reflected the dim light in the room, casting slender, shimmering lines across the walls.
For a moment, you could do nothing but observe them in stunned amazement. This was the ability, the weapon that had been a part of him for so long, and he was sharing it with you; how special.
You reached out, almost instinctively, your fingers trembling as they hovered near the metal. Logan's eyes met yours, searching for any sign of fear or hesitation. But you felt none. Instead, there was a deep curiosity, a need to understand this part of him.
Gently, you let your fingers brush against the surface of one of the blades. The metal was cold and smooth, the edges impossibly sharp. You marvelled at how something so deadly could be a part of the man you loved. It was hard to wrap your mind around itâhow could flesh and bone give rise to something so unnatural, so extraordinary?
"They're beautiful," You hummed in delight, looking up at him with the warmest smile.Â
"You're something else, aren't you?" He sighed relieved.
With a swift movement, he cut your shirt down the middle, your breasts falling out.Â
"Logan-" You gasped in surprise, his smile turned dark as he retracted the claws back inside.Â
"Was in my way," He smirked, dropping his face to your chest and sucking one of your nipples in his mouth. His free hand immediately finds your other one, palming your flesh, toying with your sensitive nipples with his fingers. You moan loudly, arching your back into his skilled maneuvers. It felt amazing but you needed more. More touch. More friction. More Logan.Â
With a distinctive pop, he releases your nipple from his grasp.
"Please," You breathed needily. You were feeling yourself getting wetter by the moment.
He admired you from below; how your hand was gripped in the sheets over your head, how your eyelids were just barely open with lust. He kissed his way down from your breasts to your stomach, leaving a few of his marks on your body. Gentle ones of course.Â
âI'm going to make you feel good, okay sweetheart?â Logan soothes, pulling down the pyjama pants down your legs with ease. You helped him remove them frantically, knowing what was about to happen next.
 âOkay, Lo-â He tosses the bottoms to the other side of the room and spreads your legs wide open for him.
âFuck baby," He groaned as he admired your perfectly shaped core, already dripping and aching for him.Â
He brought his hands to your folds, spreading them open with his thumbs. You twitched underneath his touch eager to feel some release.Â
"Been thinking about doing this for a long time," He mumbled before diving face-first into you. His tongue made contact with your sensitive bud sending your back into an aggressive arch. He started slowly, licking long fat lines. You twitched at every flick of his tongue on your clit.Â
He slid both of his hands to grip your thighs roughly, pushing them further open for him. He picks up his pace, moving his jaw faster against you. Your wetness drenched his face, dripping from his chin as he lapped rhythmically with his skilled tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure to inch you closer to your breaking point.Â
"You taste just as good as the first time," He praised between breaths before sucking your clit into his mouth. His warm soft lips wrapped around it tightly as he pushed against it causing the most delicious friction. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sensation.Â
You were already close, you hadn't touched yourself during his absence and even the slightest touch was sending you near the edge.Â
Logan was growing painfully hard against his jeans, every whimper and moan that escaped your lips made the pressure increase. How he adored having you in his mouth, seeing you up close like this, tasting your sweet honey on his tongue while your intoxicating smell filled his senses.Â
He gave a slite bite on your clit as he recalled you enjoyed that last time. With a fuck, your hands snapped to his hair, grabbing fistfuls. He grinned against you doing it again, as he pressed a finger against your entrance, slowly pushing his fingers inside. You gasped as he stretched you out. While keeping up his momentum with his tongue he began to pump his fingers with it. Both points of friction accelerated your rise to your orgasm.
Youâre a whimpering mess underneath him, you try to mask the noise by biting down on the pillow.
 âDon't hold back, I want to hear those pretty noises you're making darlin', â Logan praises, thrusting deeper inside, all the way to his knuckles. You release the material from your teeth, letting out a 'gonna cum logan,'
"Cum for me princess," He moans, high off of the pleasure of eating you out. Heâs devouring you, his face buried between your thighs, his tongue circling your clit. He bites down again, pulling back his fingers outside of you, you moan at the sensation. He pulls his face away from your swollen clit and slaps his hand down on your core.Â
Your hips buck in surprise and the slight sharpness of the pain tips you over the edge, before you know it you're rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Logan rubs his rough palm on your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm, he pulls you closer by your neck and kisses you aggressively. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling his body down so that his chest is flush with yours. âNeed you inside,â you beg, lips against his. âNeed you inside.â
Logan gets up and pulls his shirt over his shoulders, discarding it in some corner of the room. He drinks in the sight of your post-orgasm frame, trying to catch your breath as he fiddles with his belt. With a few clinking noises and a zip, he pushed his jeans down, his cock springing out aggressively.Â
He returns to his position on the bed, between your legs. His lips come crashing down on yours as he strokes it a few times to ease the tension. "Are you sure, baby? It might be a little much for you, I'm more than happy with just eating you out." He locks eyes with you, looking for your approval.
You grin. "I'm yours, Logan, I'm sure." You pull him in for another kiss as he pushes the tip of his cock past your entrance. Your body jolts in surprise by the sheer size of it, but with every inch he goes deeper, the more you get used to him. You moan into his mouth as he works his way into you.
His lips are on yours, heâs plunging into you slowly, down to the hilt. âFuck,â he groans, his cock throbbing inside you. âYou're so fucking tight,â he murmurs, buried deep inside of you. âI might not last long,â He lets out a dry laugh before thrusting in and out.
Your hands find themselves gripping Logan's back muscles, grazing your nails across his skin. He groaned as the stinging sensation began to tingle.Â
âTaking me so well,â Logan praises, ducking into your neck and sucking on it. He pumps along your walls, his hips snapping against yours. His pace picks up, thrusts becoming faster. Your entrance squeezed around his girth as he pounded deep inside you.Â
"Fuck," He grunts between breaths.
He rams into you. Over and over, his sensitive tip enveloped you, warm and wet.
 âI'm so happy I'm yours,â you moan. " Always gonna be yours.â His cock twitches at your words. You watch as his abs flex, his muscles tightening and releasing with every thrust.
 The kisses on your neck became sloppy, and his thrusts were irregular.Â
His cock twitches inside you again, throbbing against your walls. You know he's close because he's moaning and pulls away from your neck looking for your eyes.Â
His muscles flex as he finds your face, and he throws his head back mindlessly pumping his warm hot seed inside of you. His hands softly stroking your thigh as he comes back to his senses.
With a few other pumps, he pulls out dropping next to you in the bed. He pulls you close keeping your head on his chest. You hear his heart hammering against his ribcage.Â
"That was so-"
"Needed." He finished
"Yes, needed." You agreed, tracing circles against his chest as he caught his breath.
A moment of silence passed, and you both comfortably enjoyed each other's company.
As the quiet stretched between you, the soft hum of the night outside filtered into the room, making the moment feel even more serene. Loganâs heartbeat began to slow, and the steady rhythm beneath your fingertips was soothing. You felt completely at peace in his arms, as if the chaotic world beyond the four walls of the bedroom didnât exist.
He shifted slightly, adjusting to pull you even closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. His hand drifted to your back, tracing lazy lines along your spine, the touch intimate and grounding. It was moments like this where words werenât necessary. The connection between you spoke louder than anything you could say.
"You okay?" Logan murmured, breaking the silence in a voice so low it was barely above a whisper. His tone was soft, tender, almost as if he feared disturbing the quiet that had settled between you.
You nodded against his chest. "More than okay," you whispered back, your fingers continuing their idle patterns against his skin. "Iâm happy youâre here. Really here."
His arms tightened around you in response. "Iâm not going anywhere," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a promise, the kind he rarely made.
A content sigh escaped your lips as you nuzzled deeper into his embrace, the scent of himâfamiliar and groundingâfilling your senses. His warmth enveloped you, lulling you into a state of complete relaxation. The world outside felt distant and irrelevant, and all that mattered was this moment, with him by your side.
As the minutes passed, you both drifted into a comfortable stillness, your breaths synchronizing, the only sound being the soft rustle of the sheets and the steady beat of Loganâs heart beneath your ear. This was all you neededâhim, right here, with you.
As you closed your eyes, drifting on the edge of sleep, Loganâs hand gently tightened on your hip, and in a low, teasing murmur, he whispered, "Next time, Iâm going to ravish you all over again."
sorry it took so long, I started uni <3 love you guys and thank you for enjoying the Ravish series. hope yall request or stick around for more.
đ·ïž:@babucakes@landlockedmermaid77@theoraekenslover@loreniscrying@bpmiranda @rogueinmymind @lose1tall @2fatblunt @ltristessedureratoujours @th3mrskory @angelofthorr @strawberrylore
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#Logan Howlett x reader#Wolverine x reader#James Logan Howlett x reader#Logan Howlett x reader smut#Wolverine x reader smut#James Logan Howlett x reader smut#Logan Howlett smut#Wolverine smut#James Logan Howlett smut#Logan Howlett x you#Wolverine x you#James Logan Howlett x you#Logan Howlett friends to lovers#Logan Howlett x you smut#Wolverine x you smut#James Logan Howlett x you smut#Logan Howlett x reader friends to lovers#Logan Howlett imagine#Wolverine imagine#James Logan Howlett imagine#X men imagine#Hugh Jackman#Deadpool and Wolverine#Logan Howlett fluff#Logan Howlett x reader fluff#Logan Howlett x reader age gap#Logan Howlett age gap#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine x reader
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HELP AGAIN
looking for a fic where it was Logan & a puppy hybrid mutant reader where she got really attached to Logan after he had saved her from a crate on a mission, i think the username had âdollâ in it i think but of course i closed app out mid read đ thanks in advance!!
#james logan howlett smut#logan howlett smut#logan howlett#logan#mutant reader#x men#x men fic#deadpool and wolverine#dp&w
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â sugar, sugar
[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]
wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader
rated e - 6.5k
tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, whatâs a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)
a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)
Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall⊠but, youâre willing to put up with him if it means heâll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.
âYou gonna introduce me?â
Youâve cornered Wade in the apartmentâs laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.
âYou think this will wash out?âÂ
The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.
âDefinitely.â Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, âSo, will you?â
He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.
âReally? Not even âhello, Wadeâ? âLooking good, Wadeâ?â His voice pitches up, imitating yours, âDoes our friendship really mean nothing to you?â
You wouldnât necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.
In fact, heâs honestly the worst neighbor youâve ever had.Â
Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.
Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins. Â
But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump heâs been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.
And maybe that was friendship, after all.Â
You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.
âYou do look good, Wade,â Thereâs a tilt of your head, the smile widening, âGlad you lost the toupee, that really wasnât your color.â
âAh, ah. Repurposed,â He chides, cupping his crotch, âYou wouldnât believe how much Iâve missed-â
âEw, stop.â Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, âWill you please just answer my question?â
He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, âWhich was...?â
Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.
âGood call,â He nods, âDry clean only.â
You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, âI want to meet your roommate.â
He frowns, âYouâve met Blind Al.â
âJesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.â
Youâve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since heâs moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wadeâs endless chatter.Â
But in the weeks following, that look had softened. Youâd stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time youâve just gotten Al.
Not that you dislike Al, thatâs not it at all. Sheâs sweet enough to you when itâs not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesnât have her annoyed half to death.
But you certainly werenât harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place. Â
âOoh,â The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before heâs leaning against the washer too, facing you. âYeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean âHugh Jackmanâ vibe, just without the singing. Youâd like him.â
Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then heâs raising a finger - wiggling it at you, âJust one question though. Whatâs in it for me?â
That has you scowling, âWhat do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.â
âGod, that was great sausage.â Wade groans, thinking back, âMmm, but I think Peter covered for me.â
âWho do you think got Peter?â
âWell, I donât remember seeing you.â He shrugs.
âI was right-,â You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, âFine. If you do this for me, Iâll do that thing you keep asking me to do.â
Wade gasps gleefully, âYou mean youâll make the triple decker-â
â-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.â You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, âYouâre lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.â
âRight. Lucky me,â He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, âIâm having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.â
The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this couldâve been avoided.
âLogan sleeps on the couch, though,â He adds, sagely, âSo just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.â
âThanks for the warning,â You grimace - even if youâre certain that cannot possibly be true, âBut I do have my own apartment.â
âOh, right.â Thereâs the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.
You give him a sideways look, then.
âI saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?â
He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.
âYeah.â Wade manages, âYeah, I think so.â
There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How itâs always belonged to another.Â
You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.
âIâm really glad to hear that.âÂ
He smiles, then.
âThanks. Me too.â
âHey, hold on.â Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, âWhere are you going? You canât go out.â
Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, âSure I can.â
The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wadeâs fingers just grip the frame even tighter, âBut I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I canât let you go.â
An eyebrow cocks, âCanât? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.â
It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and heâs not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.
âWait, wait, wait,â He throws a hand up, âArenât you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. Sheâs hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. Youâre only one outta three there. Canât you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!â
Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows heâs got him.
âIâve met your friends,â He eventually acknowledges, âTheyâre good folk and all, but there isnât anyone there Iâd like to âget to know betterâ, yeah?â
âYou havenât met this one. She lives next door.â
The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.
âApartment 16 or 18?â Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing.Â
Oh, heâs definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New Yorkâs own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid.Â
He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer.Â
â18.âÂ
Another beat passes, and then a sigh.Â
âAlright.â The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.
âFive minutes. Thatâs all Iâm staying.â
Wadeâs fist pumps.Â
Bullseye, motherfucker.Â
The apartment is packed and itâs been well past the allotted five minutes. Loganâs been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people heâs grown to know well.
Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do.Â
Or maybe, just bail all-together.
Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.
Heâs too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.
Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wadeâs been playing.Â
Ambiance, his ass.
The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.
Wade hadnât been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.
Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.
A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie heâs snuck when no one was home.Â
Had never thought to introduce himself, because heâs been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.
Better not to hope, or even think, at all.Â
You stumble when he lets go, and Loganâs hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that youâre so close.Â
A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide.Â
âLogan,â Wadeâs tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, âThis is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.â
A dejected sigh as he regards you, âWhich is why itâs never worked out between us. I am just too available.â
Penis cake?
Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open.Â
Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, âOh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?â
Wadeâs smile widens, his tone still innocent, âJust skipping over the âgetting-to-know-youâs, so you can know if youâre compatible.â
Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.
âAnd this is Logan. Heâs from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.â
Jesus Christ.Â
Loganâs teeth grit, before he snarls, âItâs not made of metal-â
Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.
A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.
âOoh! Door,â Wade thumbs over his shoulder, âGo on now, weâve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.â
A spin on his heel, and heâs leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.
âNice to meet you.â He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wadeâs back. A hand extended - heâd manage that much at least.
Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.
Logan doesnât touch people much anymore unless itâs a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.
âNice to finally meet you, too.â Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until heâs withdrawing.Â
Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours.Â
Theyâre pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wadeâs words ring out in his head.Â
She wants to meet you.
Heâs wondering if thatâs still true. Maybe youâre wondering the same, with the way you look at him.Â
âSo,â You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,âHow does-â
âUh-uh.â Loganâs head shakes. Heâs picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses.Â
âIf you wanna know, you gotta go first.âÂ
He hates you.
He must, with the way heâs scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.
Who wouldnât, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.
That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away.Â
âYou gonna-?â His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin.Â
âUh, sure.â Your fingers twist, âWhich part did you want to hear about?â
His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.
âRight,â The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, âWell, I donât really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.â
His voice is low, âHow would Wade know that?â
âMm, how would he know about your-?â Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts.Â
âYou first.â
âAlright.â You huff, but youâre smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing.Â
Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger.Â
Itâs starting to make you think that maybe itâs not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe itâs just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back.Â
Maybe heâs as nervous as you are.
âWell, heâs had to scare an ex or two away.â You shrug, âHe only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.â
You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.
âWell, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,â You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, âAnd it all like, has to grow back, right? Itâs so creepy.â
Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways.Â
Different. Special.
âWell, he uh, finished growing everything in,â You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, âAnd the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.â
âHis⊠dickiversary.â Logan repeats slowly.
The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, âYeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldnât say no.â
Thereâs the smallest twitch of Loganâs lips, and it feels like a victory.
âRight. What flavor was it?â
Your smile widens with relief, âStrawberries and cream. It was so good. Iâll have to make it for you sometime.â
A second before you cringe, adding, âI mean, a normal one. NotâŠâ
He hums then, close to a laugh. Â
âSure. You do that.â
You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, âAnd with that⊠I think itâs your turn.â
The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.
Setting it free.Â
âIâm a mutant.â
Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade.Â
âWade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-â You encourage, waiting.
âRight,â He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, âMy powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-â
Thereâs the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry.Â
They glint in the light, as his fingers flex.Â
âAdamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.â
The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood.Â
Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.
âMetalâŠâ You trail off, as pieces click into place, âI get it now. So does Wade really think thereâs like, an actual bone-?â
Logan huffs again, âGuess so.â
You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers.Â
âBut doesnât that hurt?âÂ
It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing.Â
He shrugs, and itâs heartbreaking.
âDoesnât even phase me anymore.â
âAnd, the two hundred years,â Another facet you put together out loud, âYouâre still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?â
His hand flexes in your grip.
âNot forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.â His eyes meet yours, âThe Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.â
Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.
âAnother world, huh?â You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, âWonât they miss you in yours?â
Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough.Â
âNo. I donât think so.â
Another jolt racks through your heart. You donât know him know him yet, but you already canât believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.
âWell then, Iâm glad youâre here.â
He doesnât reply.Â
The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face.Â
His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows.Â
Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.
He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly.Â
âLet me ask you one more thing.âÂ
âSure. You know some of my worst secrets already.â You smile, a shoulder lifting.
His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.
Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.
âWhyâd you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?âÂ
His voice is still low, rough. But itâs lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that youâve been the whole night.
Surely he must know?Â
âWellâŠâ You hedge. Itâs your turn to look away, but then thereâs the brush of his fingers again.
âBecause I did want to meet you.â You admit, âYou, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity youâd like.â
âIs that right, Sugar?â Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.
All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken.Â
Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble youâve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since youâve arrived.
âNot strip poker Wade, please.â The rough rumbling plea of Colossusâs voice rings out above the others, âYou never wear anything under the suit-â
You didnât even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Loganâs eyes are still on you.
Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush.Â
âYou want to get out of here?â
You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.
The corner of his lip twitches.
âThought youâd never ask.â
Itâs strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time youâve wanted someone here.
His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.
Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.
His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.
Itâs quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.
Here, his fingers move, but itâs only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it.Â
His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.
Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.
A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.
Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.
Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and heâs letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.
He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled âfuckâ.
Grinding yourself down where heâs hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.
You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down.Â
Itâs here that he comes back to himself.Â
Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.
âYou shouldnât want this.â He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, âA man like me. You know that, right?â
Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring.Â
Itâs a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he wonât want to stop.
Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath.Â
The other pulling away, âYou want me to stop?âÂ
He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch.Â
âThe last thing I want to fucking do is stop.â Itâs almost a growl, âBut on my Earth, I-â
You sigh then, impatient, âLogan, this Earth isnât all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.â
He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, âIâm tired of being too scared to take chances. Iâve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and Iâd like to end this one with you.â
And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.
âYeah,â He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, âYeah, okay.â
"Thank you,â You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down.Â
His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You canât help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.
Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that youâre already wondering if youâre going to be able to take him.Â
The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth.Â
Only when heâs halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.
That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.
Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.
âOh fuck yes,â He coaxes, when he realizes what youâre doing, âLet me see you, baby.âÂ
Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again.Â
A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache.Â
Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone.Â
His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate.Â
âThatâs it sweetheart.â
Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, âOh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.â
His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. Heâs mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.
You did this to him.Â
It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down.Â
A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop.Â
Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.
A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you.Â
âHands and knees,â He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.
Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.
His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.
âCould smell how much she needed this.â The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, âEven next door. You want it that bad?â
It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.
âYes,â You agree, âPlease, Logan.â
âSo fuckinâ polite,â The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.
A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.
The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest.Â
âSweet, too.â Another flick of his tongue, âYour name. âs fitting.â
You canât manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.
Itâs messy, how he eats you. You donât think youâve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.
That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim.Â
A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. Thereâs no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him. Itâs what you needed - that little bit more.
Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge.Â
Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together.Â
âDonât fucking stop.â Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, âOh my god youâre gonna make me come-â
He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking.Â
His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.
It leaves you floating above yourself. You canât remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and itâs only that you wonât get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.
You wouldâve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him.Â
Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.
But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock.Â
âTell me I can fuck you.â Itâs not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But itâs as close as youâve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.
Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.
You donât know how heâs hard again, but at the moment you really donât care. Not sure if youâve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him.Â
A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his.Â
âFuck me, Logan.âÂ
He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up.Â
Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.
âRelax, sweetheart,â He grits out, though not unkindly, âYou can take it.â
Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way youâre already gripping him.
Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think youâll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like heâs reaching into your belly.
Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.
âFeels fucking incredible,â Itâs mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadnât meant to say it.Â
âMm,â You grin, your face tipping up to his, âShouldâve met you weeks ago.â
He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until heâs halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.
Itâs almost too much.Â
You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin.Â
It feels like heâs surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.
That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.
âFuck, Logan.â You sob, âHarder-â
His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat.Â
Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.
How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.
âSweetheart.â Itâs a warning, rasped out.Â
âCome in me,â You whine, âWanna feel you.â
He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in.Â
Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.
âCome on, baby,â Itâs hushed, murmured against your skin, âFuckinâ give it to me-â
The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear.Â
Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where youâre speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.
He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.
Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap.Â
It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him.Â
Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.
âThatâs it, sweetheart,â He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, âMake a fucking mess for me, there you go-â
Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before heâs coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls. Â
Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught.Â
Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.
Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.
Thereâs a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, âIâll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.â
The thought doesnât bother you as much as youâd think. In fact, you wouldnât mind if happened again.
Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.
âFuck, thatâs good.â
Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise.Â
A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, âNo. Back the fuck off Peter, Iâm not going to share.âÂ
Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.
The next louder, âAlright, pay up everyone, Operation âGet Sugar Some Sugarâ was a success!â
You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.
âWish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.â
Thereâs a faint âthey already tried that!â before Loganâs fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.
But you canât help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.
âHeâs not so bad,â You admit, âWade, I mean.â
Logan groans, âDonât say his name while Iâm fucking you.â
âYouâre-â You start - but then you can feel him.
Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.
âAgain?â You breathe, disbelieving that heâd be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, âYou sure youâre two hundred?â
âRegenerative powers, sweetheart.â Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.
âCanât say it doesnât come with perks.â
I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! đđ thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)
#phew this got away from me - i can't remember the last time I wrote this much in 2 days#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett x you#wolverine smut#logan howlett#james logan howlett x reader#xmen x reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett x f!reader
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'messy' 18+
oneshot (request) - logan learns that you can squirt, he indulges in that information (1.8k words) pairing - logan howlett (xmen) x f!reader tags - established relationship, fingering, petnames: babygirl, baby, good girl, praising, kind of overstimulation, squirting, lots of squirting, a little rough, he talks reader through it, wet mentions, reader orgasm, dirty talk, fingers in mouth, logan makes reader taste themselves.
.ă»ă.ă»ăâă». .ă»ă.ă»ăâă». .ă»ă.ă»ăâă».
you're splayed out on his lap on the sofa just how he likes you to be, nestled on top of his plush, firm thighs. your knees are bent with your ankles resting over either side of his legs, your back flush with his warm chest, your whole body exposed, open, for him.
logan's thick, calloused fingers lazily stroke your clit, earning soft mewls from your lips as your head tilts back over his shoulder. his other hand is ensuring his middle finger pumps in and out of you at a slow pace, your body craving those broad digits stretching your tight walls.
.ă»ă.ă»ăâă». .ă»ă.ă»ăâă». .ă»ă.ă»ăâă».
you're moaning, gripping his arm for dear life as you squirm in his lap, rolling your hips instinctively. it was beautiful, the way he could make you sing for him, the way he could make your body move for him with just a few simple strokes, almost like a puppet, pulling your strings. he would never consider himself your 'master', but god, you'd let him control you whenever he liked.
he smirks, nuzzling his fuzzy beard into the side of your cheek, his lips finding their place at your ear, "that feel good, baby girl?" logan asks, his voice a deep purr. he already knows the answer.
you gasp at his low-toned voice, gruff like gravel but sweet like honey, "yes. . ."
"mh, that's what i thought. . . think you can take a little more though." he huffs, slipping another finger inside.
your walls clench around the sudden new presence and you moan, loudly, craving the feeling of being filled by him in whatever capacity he's willing to give.
"that's it," he coos, picking up the pace, "good girl, gooood girl. . ." logan loves how easily he can slip inside of you, how he'd always find you dripping, cunt aching, core throbbing for him. his sensitive ears perk up at the sweet sounds of your wet pussy taking his fingers in, the wet schlick sounds filling the room.
your cheeks flush, looking down at the way his fingers are making light work of you, your shirt hiked up to expose your breasts. with the pace increasing, and the way he's so sweetly purring filthy words into your ear. . . you feel a sensation start to build.
it's. . . new, almost uncomfortable but not quite. not the same as an orgasm but almost. it pools low in your belly, just a little out of reach.
but his fingers pick up again, slamming deep inside of you, curling just enough. his fingers circling your clit remain slow in contrast, creating a dizzying combination of sensations that have you clenching around him and calling out his name over and over in some desperate plea. desperation for him to continue, for the building feeling, for him, full stop.
the feeling returns. fuck, it almost feels like you need to piss. your cheeks flush, eyes rolling back as you fight back the feeling, but he's rubbing you and touching you and fucking you too good for you to hold anything back.
"logan," you gasp, arching your back, "l-logan wait-"
but it's too late, before he even has the chance to slow down, you squirt. your juices coat his hands, his fingers, dripping down along his arm and onto the sofa below earning a gasp from both of you.
his eyes widen, stopping his movements immediately causing you to whine at the sudden lack of friction.
then there's silence, save for the lewd wet dripping from the sofa onto the hardwood floor.
your head is reeling, did. . . did you just squirt? fuck, you'd never done that before. heart pounding, you swallow hard, instinctively wanting to apologise for the mess, "shit, sorry i-"
"holy fuck. . ." he whispers shakily before you even have the chance to finish your sentence, "where were you hidin' that from me?" you can hear the smirk in his voice clear as day as he talks into your ear.
"what?" you whisper.
he smirks, kissing your ear, "you didn't tell me you could make cute little messes like that, baby."
"i didn't know i could. . ." you admit, biting your lip as you feel the cool air of the room brush against your dripping sensitive core.
logan's eyes widen, the implication of your words nestling deep in his brain, and groin. he was the first ever to make you squirt, the first to make you feel so good that you couldn't help but make a mess for him. pride swells in his chest, manifesting in a low rumbling smug chuckle at the back of his throat.
". . .think you could make another mess for me?" he hums, his fingers on your clit slowly resuming their movements.
you whimper, the new sensation you experienced was foreign but surprisingly welcomed. you had no idea it felt that good, that you could ever do that. but logan has a way of coaxing everything out of you, cock and fingers playing you like an instrument he's mastered.
"don't know. . ." you mumble, suddenly feeling skittish.
it's then that his fingers start fucking you again, gliding in and out easily, your fluttering hole welcoming the movement. "you can, i know you can." he encourages, nibbling at your ear, "you'll be a good girl, you'll make another mess for me, won't you?"
fuck, his words. his fucking words. every single time they had you acting crazy, letting out sounds you didn't know you could make. and he drinks them in, drinks up all those sweet little sounds from that pretty little mouth of yours that he loves so much.
you simply nod, feeling his digits pumping rougher, curling to find that sweet sweet spot once more. you're not sure if you can even do it again, but logan seems pretty fucking set on making him gush for you at least once more.
he scissors his fingers slightly, stretching you, the motion making you whine with pleasure. but when he pushes in a third finger? that's when you really start screaming for him.
"that's more like it, huh?" he grins, breathing deeply through his nose from how hard he's working you, "just needed a bit more, cus' i know you like it thick baby, don't you? like it thick like my cock?"
you want to gasp, to react to his words, but your eyes are rolling back again, mouth stuck open in an 'o' shape as you feel that sensation build once more. your body is tensing, thighs clenching, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. subconsciously you hold your breath as if that'll help. he's got you right where he wants you, right where he knows you want to be.
seconds later you're gushing, more this time - it lands on the hardwood below with a crude splash and coats his hands nicely. logan laughs, a deep dirty laugh as you writhe. he gives a gentle slap to your clit, then a firmer one, causing more to spill from you along with some squeaks.
"there we go, good girl, what a good girl. . ." you can hear the smirk in his voice, the wide grin he's wearing, the smugness lacing every word that leaves his lips, "feels good to make a mess for me, doesn't it?"
you're breathless, panting, overwhelmed in the best way. and then he speaks again.
". . . i think you can handle one more." logan purrs, movements suddenly fast and hard. his fingers fuck deep into you, curling to hit your g-spot with each calculated thrust. the fingers on your clit speed up, rubbing in practiced circles sending sparks of electricity throughout your body.
you want it too, you'd give it to him over and over again, create messes all night long if your body let you.
god you'd do anything for him, especially in that moment, and how could you not? the way his fingers play with you, toy with you, slide into you. . .
"d-don't know if i can!" you admit, huffing, trying to get more air.
but he shakes his head, "yes you can." is all he says, firmly.
and he's right. moments later you feel it pooling in your belly once more, the accompanying orgasm approaching that threatens to throw you overboard. you're lost in a sea of sensations, stars in your vision, his voice in your ear the only anchor you have to reality. you let it guide you, until you're drenching his fingers and jeans once more, voice ringing out within his bedroom as his voice coaxes and praises you softly.
his fingers on your clit come together to slap down against you, each smack against your sensitive bundle of nerves causing more to spray. you're making such a big mess, his jeans are damp. he doesn't care. this is what he wants, and fuck, if you don't feel the best you've ever felt in your entire life. . .
he keeps going, his fingers steadily pumping into you roughly, desperate to get every last drop as he feels you clamp down around his fingers. you're moaning, gasping, gripping onto his arm for dear life as you ride out your orgasm. it's too much, but it's also perfect. logan watches on in deep satisfaction as you writhe on his lap, his bulge pressing against you above him, cock twitching and rock hard just from touching you.
as your body relaxes, so do his movements, slowing down. he glides his fingers in a few times, enjoying the slick sounds they make before pulling them from your still-fluttering hole. he lazily drifts his damp digits along your tummy, leaving a trail of wetness up to your chest until it finds your mouth.
you part your lips gladly, turning your head to look up at him through hooded lids as you take his fingers in your mouth. diligently, your tongue laps at his fingers, reeling at the taste of yourself on him, dripping from him.
"good girl, you're always so fuckin' good for me. . ." he smiles, kissing your forehead as he watches you, his free hand resting on your tummy. you enjoy the feeling of his large palm against you, making you feel comforted whilst also grounding you after that whirlwind of release.
you pull his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, instead kissing along his fingers and down across the sensitive skin of his knuckles. a silent thank you, for making you feel so good.
logan watches keenly, growling quietly at the stirring in his groin. his eyes flash with something. you'd call it mischief.
your eyes flit up to his, knowing what he's thinking before he's even said it.
"wonder what else you can do. . ." he smirks, "keeping any other secrets from me?" logan asks as he rolls his hips against you, prompting you to feel how hard he is for you and you exhale, relaxing back against him.
it was funny, how he could always push you right to the edge when you think you're spent.
and yet have you craving more. . .
you grin, biting your lip, "wanna find out?"
#my writing#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett x f!reader#wolverine smut#logan howlett x you#logan howlett smut#wolverine fanfiction#the wolverine#wolverine#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett#deadpool#deadpool and wolverine#james howlett#deadpool 3#deadpool movie#james logan howlett#x men#xmen fanfiction#x men movies#marvel x reader#marvel#mcu#marvel cinematic universe#marvel comics#marvel mcu#hugh jackman#worst wolverine
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âguilty pleasureâ | 8.6k
worst!logan howlett x f!reader
SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. Heâs convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesnât seem so bad after all.
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - theyâre basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kidâ.
A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that iâm LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love yâall.
** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didnât want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, iâve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i donât know when iâll be posting it, but iâm sure it wonât take me that long.
*** iâm also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i donât know if anyoneâs going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)
**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes donât hesitate to tell me :)
special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic đ the sweetest human ever
The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.
Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. Itâs what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.
Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. Youâre pretty sure that holding some strangerâs hair while they empty their insides wasnât on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesnât grow on trees, and university isnât going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.Â
Perhaps this isnât the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. Youâd often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients youâd ever encountered. In the past, heâd even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, youâd be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: âYouâll be much better than me, doll. Iâm a mess, canât you see it? You donât wanna be like me,â his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. âI should be at my daughterâs birthday right now, but I didnât get an invitation this year. Believe me, you donât want to end up like this old man.âÂ
Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesnât receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. Youâre certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, youâd be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.
The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see whoâs arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, youâre compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the strangerâs features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.Â
You:
cutie patootie alert
thereâs this really handsome guy at the bar
i donât think iâve ever seen him before
i think iâm in love with him
my night just got a 100% better
Allison:
age
what does he look like
is he bald?
You:
he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? itâs hard to tell UGH i wish you were here
brown hair, beard, 6â2 if iâm not wrongÂ
i didnât stare at him for too long
otherwise that wouldâve been very weird
and no heâs not fucking bald
that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentlemanâs lack of hairÂ
Allison:
so youâre dating retired now
get it grandma!
You:
oh fuck you allisonÂ
Allison:Â
itâs okay girl we all have our flaws
just make sure itâs nobodyâs father
wait itâs not mine right?
You:
nah your dadâs way hotter donât you worry about it
Allison:
bitchÂ
Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.
âDo I have somethinâ on my face?â you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit itâs pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.
The glow of a phoneâs flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. âEnough of that, yâhear me?â
Enter you now. âOkay, gentlemen, Iâm sorry. Iâm gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?â you mumble as you gently push them aside. âThank you, thank you. Yâall can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.â
Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.Â
Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. âDoll, itâs the fucking Wolverine. Donât ask him for a picture, though. He doesnât seem to be in the mood for that.â
The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.
âGuys, what youâre doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought Iâd taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldnât have it.â
Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. âShe does have a point.âÂ
âThank you, peanut. Youâre still my favorite,â you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. âYou can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?â they all scoff, barking their disagreement. âOh, you donât like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,â you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. âChop chop. All this alcohol wonât be drinking itself.â
Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.
âThank you,â he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.Â
âNo need to. Itâs what Iâm here for,â you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. âCan I get you anything to drink? Itâs also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.â
(No. Itâs not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)
He doesnât seem too eager to hear you talk. âNot hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.â
âYou sure?â
âYeah, kid. Very sure.â Well, now he does look annoyed.
âGreat. Iâll be back in a minute,â you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you donât even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. âI see youâre thirsty.â
âCould you leave the bottle here?â those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although youâd be happy to oblige, rules are rules.Â
âActually, I canât. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,â your proposal doesnât appear to have the desired effect on him. âI wonât talk to you if thatâs what you want.â
âIâll take your word for it,â he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.Â
You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.
âWhat a weirdo. Didnât you see it on TV? Heâs not even from this universe,â Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. âLet me tell yâall something: he shouldnât even be here. Heâs fucking dead on this earth.â
Yeah⊠that you knew.
It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone wouldâve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you wouldâve laughed in their face.
As if that werenât already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that thereâs a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you canât seem to be scared of him. Thereâs something magnetic about his personality and that donât-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.
âI can hear your thoughts,â a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.
âI thought you didnât want me to talk,â you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. âI can assure you your liver hates you.â
âAlcohol wonât kill me, so donât be afraid. Keep âem coming.â
For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. âYou canât smoke in here.â
âNo special treatment?â he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. Heâs so⊠dreamy. He has to know it.
âI saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.â
His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. âYou saved my what?â
âYour goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.â
âBlame the idiots you have for clients,â he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. âI was just mindinâ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.â
âLook, Wolvie. Iââ
âWolvie?â giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. âThatâs the worst nickname Iâve heard in a long time,â he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. âItâs Logan.â
âWow. Your name is very boybandish.â
You succeed in making him laugh once again. Itâs the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles youâve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that heâs a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.
Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesnât leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.
âSo this is where youâve been hiding, you preening slut. Canât even bother to answer my calls now?â
The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesnât dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. âWade, what the hell are you doinâ here?â
âIt hasnât been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I donât even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,â the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. âNo offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The nameâs Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.â
âYou dumb fuck. Are you flirtinâ with her?â
âNo shit, smartass. Youâre the future of this country.â
A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. âWell, arenât you two a beautiful couple?â
âYou should see our little munchkin. Heâs got my eyes and Loganâs hair. His first word was gubernatorial.â
âWould you like to have a drink while youâre here?â
âA beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. Youâre the cutest,â Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Loganâs direction, bumping his shoulder. âSheâs the cutest. Are you two together?â
Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. âHow did you find me?â
âIt's the power of love, baby. I had Itâs All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldnât stop thinking about you.â
Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Loganâs face. âI didnât know patience was your strongest suit.â
âMe neither.â
âEnough of that! I canât stand not being included in a conversation,â Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. âThere you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?â
You canât help but snort. âIâm 25.â
Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. âNow that I think about it, you could totally be Loganâs caretaker. Heâs been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you⊠know anything about adult diapers?â
But then Loganâs face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wadeâs arm. âThatâs it. Weâre leavinâ,â his eyes lock on you for a moment. âHow much do I owe you?â
âDonât worry about it. Itâs on the house.â
The things youâre willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.
(But you arenât.)
His mouth hangs open in disbelief. âKiddo, are youââ
âCompletely sure,â you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. âJust donât tell my boss.â
Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. âI usually donât mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.â
âIâm gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.â
âOh, come on! I was just making small talk,â the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. âIt was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. Iâm free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mineâs way more agile and young!â
As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.
What the fuck had just happened?
âPatrickâs normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,â you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. âHe can usually handle himself, but at some point, heâll try to call his ex-wife, and thatâs when you know you need to stop serving him.â
She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. âThis is⊠definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.â
You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. âYouâll get used to it, believe me. Iâll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.â
After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now sheâs your trainee.
Your savior complex strikes again!
It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.Â
Touching your arm softly, Gwenâs face lights up. âAnother man came in. Is he a regular? I donât think you told me about him.â
Fuck, itâs him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.
âLeave this one to me,â you tell her as your feet take you to where Loganâs sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. âLong time no see.â
âHey, kid,â he grins. âWhatâs up?â
âNothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so thatâs a good thing,â you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. âWhiskey?â
âYou know me so well,â a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. âThough this time, I wonât be leavinâ without payinâ.â
âWeâll see about that,â you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. âIs that your boyfriend?â
You almost drop the whiskey bottle. âGod, no. Heâs not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.â
âItâs funny,â she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you donât. âHe hasnât stopped looking at you since he arrived.â
âItâs probably because of this,â you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as youâre about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. Sheâs wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if sheâs a model, because she certainly looks like one.
Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Loganâs expression is hard to read, he doesnât even flinch.
âYou know what? Hereâs his drinkâ You take care of it. Iâll stay here,â you donât give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.Â
âDoll, are you okay?â Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. âThere you go.â
âThank you, Adam. Iâm fine, never been better. Why you ask?
âYou sure?â
âAffirmative.â
âYou mixed up our drinks,â he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. âThis never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and Iâve got his martini.â
âFuck! Iâm so sorry. I justâ I donât know whatâs wrong with me,â you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. âI feel stupid.â
âOh, please. Donât say that. Youâre far from being stupid,â he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. âIf you ask me, I think youâve got your mind on someone else,â he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: âRemember: I know when youâre lying. You didnât charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,â taking a tentative sip of the martini he didnât even ordered, Adam shrugs. âIâm a great observer. Thatâs all.â
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.
âAs I said, your mindâs somewhere else,â Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. âGo get your man. Iâll survive.â
âNot my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.â
Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: âHi.â
Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.
âHey, claws,â you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. âDo you need anything?â
Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. âI also wanted to talk to you.â
âI thought you were busy over there,â you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. âDid you get her number?â
âWhat? No.â
âWhy not? Sheâs cute.â
Yeah, maybe you donât sound as collected as you think.
Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. âIâm not interested.â
âAnd what is it that interests you, champ?â your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.
After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. âWade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartmentâ well, our apartment. I live with him now. Itâs complicated,â he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. âAnyway, he asked me to tell you that youâre invited. I know we donât know each other that much, but⊠he said you seem like someone worth havinâ around,â he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. âI think the same as well.â
You could die at peace.
âYouâre a lucky fucker because I donât work on Sundays,â you quip, smiling. âIâd be more than happy to attend your feast.â
âGreat. I thought you would turn down the invitation.â
âNow why would you think that?â
ââCause you barely know meâ us,â he corrects himself rapidly. âPlus, Wadeâs annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. Youâll see.â
âMarital problems?â he actually in response. âIâll take that as a âyesâ. Oh, Iâll bring the dessert.â
âYou donât have to.â
âBut I do want to,â you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.
âJust want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,â Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. âThe tipâs included.â
âI donât know how things work in your universe, but youâre giving me way more money than youâre supposed to. I can't accept this.â
âOh, but you will,â his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and youâre glad he canât see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.
He writes down Wadeâs address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. âI should get goinâ. See you tomorrow then.â
Before he walks out the door, you stop him. âLogan? You didnât answer my other question.â
His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. âGood night, doll.â
This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though youâve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and thereâs a knot in your stomach thatâs becoming all too familiar.
âWould you mind telling me where you got him?â Gwenâs voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.
âHeâs not from around here. I think heâs Canadian.â
Youâve got this. Youâve got this. Youâve got this.
Knocking softly on Wadeâs door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. Itâs your first time trying out this recipe, so youâre expecting it to at least not taste like shit.
Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. âWell, look what the wind blew in: if it isnât my husbandâs lover. How dare you? Weâre still going to couples therapy.â
You show him the container, and he squints at it. âTiramisu. You want it or not?â
âI hate twenty-somethings,â he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.Â
Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. Thereâs a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. âDonât get too excited. Heâs still showering,â Wadeâs voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. âYeah. I noticed. Youâre already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.â
âKeep quiet!â you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. âWade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?â
âCouldnât help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.â
Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. âI thought you were cominâ later.â
âMe too, but IâŠ,â you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, âI didnât know what else to do at my place.â
âItâs fine. Justâ let me put on some clothes.â
âPlease donât,â Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. âI was just being honest. Communication is key.â
When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. âThat was probably the hottest thing Iâve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.â
âThin walls, buddy!â Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.Â
Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. âIs that your phone?â
âYeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!â he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. âHey, Ness! WhatÂŽs up?â Wade covers the speaker before telling you: âItâs Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.â
From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. âHey, kid.â
âNo, Iâm not busy at all,â Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. âIâll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,â he spreads his arms wide and whistles. âSomeoneâs getting laid tonight!â
âYou made me come all the way here⊠and now youâre leaving?â
âWhat? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,â in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. âShave yourself, will you?â
âGo fuck yourself, will you?â
âLove you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!â
Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?
Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.
âSo... I, uh, bought pizza,â he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.
You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. âPizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.â
Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. âYeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didnât want to ruin it, yâknow?â
You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. âThank you. Iâm a big fan of pizza.â
He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?
âLoganâŠ,â you begin, your tone gentle but probing, âCan I ask you something?â
He glances up at you, eyes widening. Thereâs something in your eyes âan understanding, maybeâ that makes him feel like you could see right through him.Â
âSure,â he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. âAsk away.â
You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. âI was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.â
The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadnât talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasnât sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. âYeah, it's okay. Iâll answer what I can.â
âI just... I want to understand you better.â
âWell, first and foremost, Iâm no hero. You should know that by now.â
âI beg to differ.â
âKid, Iâm the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,â Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. Youâre wondering if doing this was a good idea. âI need a drink.â
He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. âI donât thinkââ
With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once heâs done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. âWhat?â he asks, exhaling slowly.
âThat was completely unnecessary,â you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. âBut, back to what you said beforeâ I donât think youâre the worst Logan.â
âYou didnât know me back then, darlinâ. I fucked it up,â he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. âLike the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beastâ All of them,â his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. âWanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldnât do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.â
The pizzaâs long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.Â
Loganâs silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. âOne day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.â
Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. âI can guess the rest. You donât have toââ
But he cuts you off. âNo, let me say it. I need to say it,â he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. âBy the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.â
Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesnât pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. âMy suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were⊠dead. I started killing, and I couldnât stop. I didnât want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.â
You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing thereâs nothing you can do to change how he feels. âYouâre not a bad person, Logan,â he shakes his head, mumbling something you canât quite catch. âI mean it. What happened back then doesnât define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and Iâll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I canât. Thatâs not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,â gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. âYouâre my hero. Iâm your biggest fanâ after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.â
He grins, letting out a laugh. âEasy there, bub.â
âShould I give you some space?â
Thatâs the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. Thereâs no turning backâ The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. âFor a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldnât stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.â
âAnd what happened?â your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. âWhat changed?â
âI met a pretty girl at a pub, thatâs what happened,â he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. âIâm gonna kiss you now.â
âDo all your kisses come with a warning?â
âGod, do you ever shut up?â
You donât have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.
âSo this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?â he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.Â
âKeep talking and you wonât get a single bite of my tiramisu,â you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. âI really like kissing you.â
âThe feelingâs mutual, but now that youâve mentioned that tiramisuâŠâ
âAm I that easily replaced?â
âNo. Youâre just a pain in the ass.â
Jokes aside, youâre as happy as a clam.
Since that night you and Logan kissed, youâve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.
He hasnât been to the bar in three days. Yes, youâre counting them. No, you havenât lost your mind. You want to see him, but thereâs something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?
Itâs been a long time since youâve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys youâve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasnât no your plans. Youâd be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didnât excite you.
Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two arenât even official yet. To be honest, you donât even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?
âNighty night, gentlemen,â you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so itâs just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.
âWhatâs up, doll? Youâve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,â Garyâs eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but youâve seen worse. âYâknow, Iâd love to take you out someday. I have a place youâd like.â
The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.Â
âIâll let you know when Iâm free,â you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. âWhat are you having tonight?â
âYou always pull that shit, baby. I donât think youâre so busy that you canât accept a date.â
You hate the way heâs looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didnât know any better.
âYouâre reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.â
âOh, doll. That attitude of yours shows youâve never been with a real man like me, thatâs all,â he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. âItâs alright. I like you bratty.â
âIâll be back when you finally have something to order,â you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. âCome on, Gary. I donât want to have to kick you out.â
âItâs not that you don't like me, right? Youâve already got your mouth full.â
âCareful.â
âWhat? Donât tell me youâre not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like âem older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.â
You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. âIt was never about your age, Gary. Youâre right: I do like them older. Iâm just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.â
His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. âFucking bitch.â
âGet your hands off her.â
Loganâs voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that heâs just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.Â
âYou joining us? Weâre just getting started here, big boy.â
âDid you not hear me?â Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Garyâs. âThe fuck is wrong with you?â
âEasy there, cowboy. Iâm just having a chat with your girl. Sheâs one of the good ones, Iâll give you that,â arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. âYou donât like sharing? We can even take turns.â
Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. âSay one more word, and Iâll fucking kill you.â
âIâll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?âÂ
The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Garyâs smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Loganâs fist swings forward, connecting with Garyâs jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. âYou fucker! You broke my nose!â
âWeâre just getting started here, big boy,â Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.
âStop!â you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But heâs beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Garyâs stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.
âThatâs enough, Logan! Heâs barely conscious,â you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what heâs done.
âHe deserved it,â he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. âHe was hurting you.â
âIf you keep that up, youâre going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,â your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. âI wonât let you do this.â
The room is quiet now, the only sound being Loganâs heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Garyâs friends, cold fury in your eyes. âGet him out of here,â you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. âEverybody out, right now! Go home. Weâre closing earlier tonight.â
Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. âBubââ
âDonât. Now is not the time.â
âI was protecting you.â
âI told you to stop, and you didnât. You just shook me off,â you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.
Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. âIâm sorry.â
You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. âWhy didnât you call me?â
âI donât have a phone.â
âButâ Jesus, Logan. You couldâve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,â you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. âThought you no longer wanted me.â
âNo, bub. Iâ I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,â he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. âI just⊠donât know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and Iâm trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.â
âPushing me away also hurts,â your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. âI canât read your mind. You need to tell me whatâs going on in that ancient skull of yours.â
His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. âIâm sorry, princess. I truly am.â
âYou canât just say âsorryâ with that voice and expect me toââ
Youâre cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.Â
âI thought your kisses came with a warning,â you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.
âShut up and kiss me, will you?â
In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. Youâre becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldnât care less. Loganâs hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.
âYou said you wanted to know whatâs on my mind, right?â his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. âWell, Iâd love nothing more than to touch you right now.â
âRight here? On the counter?â
âYeah, on the fucking counter,â he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. âWill you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?â
âPlease. Iâm glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is tâtoo expensive these days.â
âDo you always talk this much?â he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.
âYes. Next question,â your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. âFuck, that feels good.â
Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. âYou have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,â his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. âBut itâs me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: Iâm the only one who touches you, ainât I right?â you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesnât go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. âNuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?â
âI wâwant your fingers inside me,â you donât even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isnât like them. This is just the beginning and youâre already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. âPlease, Logan. I want you so bad.â
âOh, I know, bub. Thereâs something about me I donât think you know,â he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. âThese claws I have⊠they didnât come on their own. Letâs just say my sense of smell is⊠pretty good,â Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. âAnd you⊠have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,â you feel like youâre being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. âBut youâre so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?â
âToo long, fâfuck. Too long,â youâre squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that youâre still wearing clothes. âShit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.â
His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. âNot here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. Youâre only getting my fingers now,â he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. âTell me who owns this pussy.â
âL-loganââ
âTell me and Iâll make you come,â his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. âCome on. Know you want it as much as I do.â
You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. âItâs you, Logan. You own my pussy. Itâs f-fucking yours.â
With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.Â
âI said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck⊠I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.â
Heâs on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.Â
âIâm close,â you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. âIâm so close.â
âThatâs it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.â
Who had given him a damn script for this?
The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesnât let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.
Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: âOpen.â
And you do, because youâre just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way youâve cleaned them off.
âI think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,â he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. âI meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if weâre going to fuck. My backâs hurting.â
You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. âWhy not go to yours?â
âWadeâs in there. I wouldnât be able to concentrate.â
You canât help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. âSo weâre going rodeo?â
Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. âOnly if you can handle it.â
part 2: âGIVE ME THE FIRST TASTEâ
dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)
#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett#logan howlett x you#wolverine#wolverine smut#wolverine fic#wolverine fanfiction#deadpool and wolverine#the wolverine#wolverine x men#logan howlett fic#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#x men movies#x men#the last of us fanfiction#smut#fluff#wolverpool#deadpool 3#deadpool#logan x reader#logan xmen#logan x you#james logan howlett#hugh jackman#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan wolverine
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The Worst Logan
Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words
Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. đ€
This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! đ€ đ
Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+
The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. Itâs in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.
You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice.Â
Youâve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.
When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.
Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was.Â
His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot.Â
Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.
Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.
This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired.Â
This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face.Â
âLogan, that's them. Itâs X-23 and Y/N, the oneâs I told you about.â You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her.Â
âHer name is Laura.â Itâs a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasnât the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised.Â
The Wolverineâs gaze darts between the two of you, itâd be comical if you didnât feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if heâs trying to find you in her features.Â
You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.
âThere was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying ⊠and I never even got the chance to fight for it.â Blade explains remorsefully.Â
âThey sent us here because they knew weâd put up a fight.â You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle heâs currently white knuckling.Â
âPeople like us donât go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.â Elektra attests.
âThe answer is yes, Iâm in.â Wade declares.
âIn what?â Blade questions bemused by the man in red.Â
âA team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outtaâ here.â
âDonât listen to him, heâs a fucking liar!â Logan growls, furious at the other man.Â
âIt was an educated wish!â
âHA!â The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry.Â
The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage. Â
When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.
It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charlesâ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charlesâ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits.Â
Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.
You realise youâve entirely tuned out Wadeâs rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your loveâs face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie.Â
âLaura, Y/N? Whatâs it gonnaâ be girlies?âÂ
âLets fucking go.â Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed.Â
âYES! LETâS FUCKING GO!â Wade shouts back fist pumping.Â
âYouâre all fucking dead.â
Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline.Â
They both needed this and it wasnât something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers.Â
So it shouldnât surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.
âYou gonnaâ stand there all night, Bub?â The man sounds utterly exhausted.Â
You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Lauraâs seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet.Â
âYou hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.â You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists.Â
âI didnât hear a thing, Logan.â Your voice is barely above a whisper, you havenât had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but itâs like riding a bike. âI wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.â
âWhat do you fuckinâ know.â He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. âYou can skip the speech and go back up, Iâm not looking for company.âÂ
âIâm not here to tell you what to do, Logan.â Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. âI just wanted to see you.â
âSee me?â He questions incredulously. âWell, keep the change, bub. Good night.â
Despite your smile at his words, you canât help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isnât.
âItâs like seeing a ghost.â Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp.Â
Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. âYou her Mother?âÂ
âYes and no.â His stare doesnât leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. âHer biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After ⊠you ⊠after everything that happened in North DakotaâŠâ You trail off.
Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form.Â
A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.
You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue.Â
âShe was all I had - if not for her, I-.â You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now. âI just couldnât see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-âÂ
You donât know it, but youâre preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldnât help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily.Â
â-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.â You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. âSo no, to answer your question. Iâm not her biological mother, but sheâs my daughter in every way that counts.â
Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other.Â
âYou loved him?â Loganâs voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. Theyâre filled with something you canât quite name.
âI did.â
Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion. âYou should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.â
âCan I stay here ⊠with you for tonight?â The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?
Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. âIâm not him, Darlinâ.â
âNo, I suppose youâre not.â You sigh, âbut could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?â
A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesnât do that.Â
Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. Heâs a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets heâs laid out on the ground.Â
âFuck it.â He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. Youâve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you canât help but hurry before he changes his mind.Â
Before you know it youâre tucked into Loganâs side. His gloved hand doesnât quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him.Â
Loganâs breath is uneven, though heâs doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy.Â
You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he canât name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesnât move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you.Â
It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead.Â
This Wolverineâs arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, itâs so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do.Â
And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.
It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. Youâre not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep youâve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip.Â
Everything is still hazy; youâre floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura.Â
Youâre back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.
There's no my logan, new logan, old logan.Â
Heâs just Logan.Â
You bury yourself deeper in his neck.Â
Itâs only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut.Â
Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs.Â
â...Y/N?â Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesnât release his hold on you. âWhatâs wrong darlinâ?âÂ
That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you.Â
All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isnât the right word but itâs your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before heâs pulling away and holding you back.Â
âY/n⊠Darlinâ you donât want this⊠Iâm not-â
âBut you are Logan. Youâre him just as much as heâs you.â Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. âYouâre Logan.â
âY/N⊠Iâd be taking advantageâŠâ His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy heâs constantly telling everyone heâs not.Â
âI am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.â This time when you capture his lips, he doesnât rear back. Youâre not sure whatâs going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.
Loganâs tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. Youâre breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue.Â
Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. Heâs lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesnât lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you canât help a bubble of nervous laughter. He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips.Â
Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.
Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, heâs back on you, only it's your bare neck heâs lashing with affection now.
Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. Heâs nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his.Â
âLoganâŠâ You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre. Â
Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, youâre fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist.Â
Dog tags; his old dog tags.
âLOGANâ is etched into the aged metal and theyâre warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart.Â
The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you.Â
Heâs not sure why it didnât occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. Heâs not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close.Â
For the other dead Logan, the hero heâs heard so goddamn much about, he decides heâll give you the treatment you deserve.Â
As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldnât give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him.Â
Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; youâre like a gift all wrapped up for him.Â
His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.
âLogan, pleaseâŠâ you whisper desperately as your hands find his âtuftsâ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional.Â
He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, theyâre quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and heâs right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he.Â
Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.
Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth.Â
You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you.Â
âFuck, Lo, Iâm gonna-âÂ
âCome, baby... I gotâya.â He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like youâve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesnât allow you any reprieve before heâs back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.
âOne more.â Heâs negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you.Â
It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch.Â
Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.
It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth.Â
Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast.Â
âLo⊠fuck⊠yes⊠right⊠right fucking there.â You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole.Â
He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin.Â
Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it.Â
 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.Â
There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and youâve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Loganâs chest is fucking⊠transcendant to behold, it's like heâs been sculpted by god herself, the light isnât the best out of here, but you hope to god you donât die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach.Â
Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldnât give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin.Â
Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard.Â
If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy.Â
Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.
âFuck.â He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. âNo sweetheart, I want your pussy.â You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you.Â
You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees heâs deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.
Finally, heâs in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers.Â
So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go.Â
You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.
He has prepared you well, youâre so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit youâre clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground.Â
âFuck, youâre tight.â He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you canât find it in you to give a single fuck.
The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.
Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.
Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesnât take long for the sensation to hit him.
âFuck, where do you want it?â He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.
You know heâs teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does.Â
âInside - come inside me, baby.â You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, itâs unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldnât have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing.Â
Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably.Â
Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.
You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, heâs supporting his own weight, thank god, you donât think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. Heâs still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.
The silence stretches on for an amount of time you canât quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down.Â
Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh.Â
Loganâs eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection.Â
âI-â Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.
âItâs okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. Iâm okay with it.â You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but youâve got your Wolverine warming you up. âI just wanted one night to be about something other than death.â
He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again.Â
Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.
When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind.Â
Just when youâre just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than heâs ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence.Â
After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.
Itâs later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.
Thereâs a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you canât shake the sensation of being watched.Â
Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.
âMorninâ sleepy head, have a good night?â You can hear the smile in his voice.Â
âAGH!â Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Loganâs chest. He startles awake, with the telltale âsniktâ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you.Â
After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesnât do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend.Â
âGet the fuck outtaâ here, Wade.â Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.
âHmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and Iâm worried that-â
âWADE.â This time Loganâs voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isnât doing anything particularly outrageous. Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands.Â
âThanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.â Youâre disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you. Honestly, youâre still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you donât have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesnât seem to mind as he continues. âThat mean lilâ lady is asking for yaâ. Thought Iâd come and check you and big yellow werenât still bumpinâ uglies. Didnât want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.â
âUh - Thanks⊠Wade?âÂ
âThatâs me.â He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. âOh, and weâre done.â
Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wadeâs âawhâ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously.Â
After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. âSee yaâ around, bub.â
âWhereâs my smooch, Logie-bear?â
âGo fuck yourself, Wade.â He calls as he walks around, Logan doesnât look back as he heads off into the forest.Â
You still had faith heâd turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different.Â
âHate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.â Wade sighs linking his arm with yours.Â
âMmh, You can say that again.â You agree with the clown watching Loganâs ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesnât turn back.Â
The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandraâs lair when Wade finally asks the question you know heâs been dying to ask since meeting you âSo, Y/N just between us girls⊠how big is it?â
LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.
Thanks for reading xxx
Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics đ
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#worst logan#worst logan x reader#worst logan x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine you x#wolverine deadpool#wolverine smut#wolverine x you#wolverine#james howlett x reader#james howlett#james howlett x you#wolverine deadpool fanfiction#wolverine fanfiction
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18+ mdni
that reality check hitting after reading smut
#nattiâs 18+#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x reader#remus lupin x reader#benedict bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x reader#meme#smut#x reader#rafe cameron x reader#jj maybank x reader#spencer reid x reader#jennifer jareau x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#emily prentiss x reader#derek morgan x reader#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#dean winchester x reader#bucky barnes x reader#peter parker x reader#finnick odair x reader#sirius black x reader#james potter x reader#evan buckley x reader#eddie diaz x reader
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My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)
A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!
Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?
Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...
You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly.Â
It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so longâhad done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadnât realized it could happen all the same if he stayed awayâif he forced himself to remain a friend.Â
So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like itâd be the lastâthe only time.Â
âGoddammit, so fucking perfect,â he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep insideâas deep as you could take him. âNeeded you this whole time. Canât live without you.â
âLogan,â you whined, his hips snapping against yours. âD-donât stop, please.â âNever gonna stop, pretty girl,â he promised. âCanât go back. Canât be anywhere but here.â
For months now, youâve been togetherâbut nobody knows. Thereâs no doubt about commitmentânothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Loganâs bed. Youâve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where heâs happyâgenuinely happy.Â
The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Loganâs chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep.Â
Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. âGo back to sleep.â His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. âToo early.â He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Loganâs. âLove those pretty little noises you make.â
âFeels good,â you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You canât help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. âNeed you, Lo,â you beg.Â
âYouâre gonna ruin me,â Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirtâwhich is really his.Â
Heâs slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it allâwaking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time.Â
His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. âStill too early?â You mumble between soft, lazy kisses.Â
âNever too early to want you,â Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. âAlways need you.â You can feel his erection through his boxers. âGonna take care of my girl. Gonna make youââ
Thereâs a knock at the door. âLogan?â Itâs Scottâs voice on the other side. He knocks again. âLogan, you in there?â
Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you canât hold back.Â
âLogan,â you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. âHeâs not gonna stop.â
Sure enough, Scott knocks again. âLogan, I know youâre in there,â he calls, banging on the door now. âWake up. We have some tech guy on his way.âÂ
Logan groans into your neck. âWhy do you need me, Summers?â Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body.Â
âHeâsâŠa mutant,â Scott explains. âHe can speak with machines, computers, codeâyou name it, he can do it. Heâs gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure youâre awake just in caseâŠâ Scott trails off.
Logan finishes Scottâs sentence. âIn case everything goes to shit?âÂ
âI wasnât going to say that,â Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. âBut yes. In case things donât go as planned. Iâm also looking forâ"
But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him.Â
âYeah, I canât find her. Do you know where she mightââ
âOn a run,â Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. âSheâll be back soon.â Loganâs arms wrap around your back, holding you against him.Â
âAlright,â Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. âIf you see her, let her know whatâs going on, okay?â
âTrust me bub,â Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. âIâll make sure she knows.âÂ
Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs.Â
Loganâs lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. âWhere were we?â He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands.Â
You moan, your chest flush with his. âLogan,â you whine. âWe need to get up,â you insist, your hands pushing against Loganâs broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. âCanât stay in bed anymore.â
Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and itâs tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you canât. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. âLater,â he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.
You snuck out of Loganâs room, unnoticed, as always. It was still earlyâtoo early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. Youâre still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan.Â
Youâre in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face.Â
âHi pretty girl,â Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot.Â
Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffeeâone second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. âThe guy is here,â Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. âOh! Hey! How was your run?â He asks cheerfully.Â
You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. âGreat!â You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. âSurprisingly relaxing.â Logan snorts and plays it off like heâs sniffling.
Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. âCome meet the tech guy!â He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cupâwhich reads #1 Professorânext to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are thereâout in the openâand yet, still, no one seems to catch them.
You step into the foyer, and thereâs Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger manâwhoâs about your age. The manâs eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. âHi there!â He calls, waving. âIâm Mark!â He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. âBut you can call me Techno.â He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.
Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. âWolverine,â Logan growls. âAnd you canât call me Logan,â he adds, gritting his teeth. âSo, you turn on computers, bub?âÂ
Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Loganâs grasp. âA little more than that,â he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads:Â Incoming Call from Mark.
Your lips part. âHow did youâŠâ You trail off.Â
Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. âMy powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,â he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you.Â
âA technopath,â Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow.Â
âExactly,â Mark says, nodding to Charles. âMakes it easy to put my number into pretty girlsâ phones.â Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response.Â
You shake your head. âIâm not interââ
Youâre cut off by the sound of Loganâs claws unsheathing. âThese,â Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. âMake it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girlsâ phones without asking first, bub.âÂ
Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and youâd be lying if you said it didnât turn you on just a little.Â
âLetâs stay on course,â Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. âLet me show you some of the machines Iâd like you to work on.â
âIt would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,â Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.
Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. âDonât mind Logan,â Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.
âLogan,â you whisper, now that everyone is gone. âDonât worry,â you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder.Â
He turns to look at you. âHeâs a fucking creep.â
âItâs going to be fine.â
 It is not going well, or fine.
Mark is something of a nuisance. Heâs only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand.Â
Youâre in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. âSo, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sallyâs relationship?â You ask the students, to no avail.Â
This was your hardest class of the dayâespecially given the fact that youâre not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge.Â
So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration.Â
âHey!â He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. âMind if I take a look at your computer really quick?â
The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer.Â
He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. âYou didnât have to move,â he remarks. âWouldâve been nice to have you close.â
You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they canât hear. âListen,â you chide, narrowing your eyes. âI am not interested, so could you pleaseââ
âWhat are you doing in here, asshole?â Loganâs voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. âThe Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.â Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. âBeat it, bub.â
âWhatever,â Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door.Â
You groan. âPlease read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!â You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. âI know itâs a challenging novel, but I think you guys canâŠâ The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. âHandle it.âÂ
Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything youâve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. âSorry,â he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. âDidnât mean to make your class harder than it is already.â
You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. âYou helped,â you whisper. âMark is the one who ruined things,â you insist. âHe wonât leave me alone.â
Logan chuckles. âYou donât like him?â He teases. âDonât like a guy your own age flirting with you?â Heâs egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious.Â
You shake your head. âOnly like you.â You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts.Â
He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. âGotta get to my class,â he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. âMeet me after?â He asks, but he already knows the answer. Youâll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.
You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and heâd give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom.Â
You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Loganâs class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months youâve spent together.Â
You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Loganâs door. Heâs teaching a younger group of kidsâten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challengeâCharles wanted to test his patience.Â
And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way theyâd understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, youâre sure, heâd make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a babyâyour babyâon his chest. You can see it nowâhim changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the futureâyour future together.Â
Youâre so distracted that you donât hear Mark walk up to youâdonât feel his hand grab your shoulder.
You yelp and jump. âOh my god,â you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him.Â
âDidnât mean to scare you,â he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. âWhat are you doing tonight?â
The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Loganâs classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Loganâs door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.
A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Loganâs gruffness. When they hear Loganâs footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls.Â
Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. âGot plans?â He asks again.Â
You roll your eyes. âDude, Iâm not interested!â You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.
Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. âListen, bub,â he growls, his claws just inches from Markâs chest. âIf you donât fuck off and stop harassing my girl, weâre gonna have a problem.â
Mark scoffs. âMy girl? What are you, her father? You canât possibly be dating her.â
You can see the anger in Loganâs eyes, the honest rage. âLo,â you soothe. âDonât do it.â But you know itâs too late. His decision is already made.
Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. âIâm her fucking boyfriend, bub,â he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold.Â
âOh, her boyfriend?â He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. âArenât you too old to be a boyfriend?â
Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. âMore serious than that,â Logan asserts. âGuessing you wouldnât know anything about that though, would you?âÂ
âAlright, break it up!â Scottâs voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesnât budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood.Â
You bring your hand to Loganâs shoulder. âHe isnât gonna hurt me,â you whisper to Logan. âI could handle him easily if he tried.â You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. âNothingâs going to happen, okay?âÂ
Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. âIâm getting the fuck out of here!â Mark shouts, but Logan doesnât react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours.Â
âYou okay?â He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand.Â
You arch a brow. âAre you okay?â You smile and lean into him.Â
âSoâŠâ Scott trails off, interrupting. âYou two areâŠâ
âTogether.â You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Loganâs. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. Heâs rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you.Â
âHow long has this been going on?â Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. âDid anyone know about this?âÂ
You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to sideâsave for the Professor. âI did, of course,â Charles confesses. âBut I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.â
Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. âI canât believe you never told me!âÂ
âTold you what?â Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Loganâs hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. âNo way!â She cheers, jumping up and down.Â
âSettle down,â Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. âScott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.â Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. âAs for the two of you,â he pauses, winking. âWeâll discuss more at a later point.â
You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your handâanother sign itâs time to go. Heâs still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension.Â
âGot something I need to take care of,â Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway. Â
He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. âLogan,â you whisper, trying to catch his attention. Youâve never seen him like thisârage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of.Â
Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second youâre inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yoursâhungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.
Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him.Â
âNeed you,â he mumbles against your lips. âAlways fucking need you.â He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. âTell me you need me, pretty girl.â
âN-need you,â you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.Â
âIâm not too old for you?â Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. âYou donât wanna be with anyone else?â He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts.Â
You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. âNo,â you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. âOnly wanna be with you,â you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. âPlease,â you beg, spreading your legs wider. âWant you to fuck me.âÂ
Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. âGonna take care of you, sweetheart,â Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb.Â
âFuck,â you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.Â
Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. âThatâs it,â he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. âDonât be quiet, darlinâ,â he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. âShow me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.â
âFeels good,â you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.
He chuckles darkly. âYou wore this just for me?â He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. âWanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?â
âFuck, yes, just for you,â you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. âIâm all yours, Lo,â you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.
Loganâs hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. âFuck, all this is for me?â He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. âYouâre soaked already, princess.â His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud.Â
You rock your hips against Loganâs touch, searching for more friction. âLogan, need you,â you whine, squirming underneath him. âIâm yours.â
âAll mine?â He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. âSay it again, pretty girl,â he demands, guiding his cock to your folds.Â
âAll yours,â you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. âPlease justââ
Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. âFuck,â Logan grunts. âSo fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I wonât even fuck you. Maybe Iâll just make you sit on my cock.â
But you need him to move, need him to take you. âLogan, f-fuck me,â you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. âPlease, move,â you plead.Â
âSo impatient,â he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. âYou gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?âÂ
His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. âYes,â you say with pleading eyes. âAnything. You can do anything just pleaseâoh fuck!â Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace.Â
His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times heâs fucked you, itâs never been quite like this. Thereâs a hunger in Loganâs eyes that youâve never seen before, an undying need youâre not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this timeâmore intense, fervent, and feverish.Â
Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours.Â
âLook at you,â he groans, fucking into you. âSo beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.â You can feel his cock twitching inside you. âWanna make you mine, sweetheart.â
âI-I already am,â you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. âAlways gonna be yours.â
âWant more than that,â Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. Heâs so deep inside youâhitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust.Â
âWhatever you want,â you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. âItâs yours. Iâm yours.â
âYeah?â He growls at the shell of your ear. âYou gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?â
âYes, please,â you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. Youâre already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. âWant you to stay inside.â And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anythingâŠ
âWanna have your baby, Lo.â
Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. âFuck, donât tease me like that, sweetheart.âÂ
âN-not teasing,â you stammer. âI mean it.â
âShit,â Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. Heâs letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. âSuch a good girl,â he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. âYou gonna let me fuck a baby into you?â
âYes!â You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.
âThatâs it, pretty girl,â Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. âWant you forever.â
You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. âYou have me Lo, always gonna have me.â Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. Itâs intenseâmore intense than anything youâve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.
Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. âDid so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.â His thrusts slow until heâs still inside you, but he doesnât pull out. âDonât wanna move, princess,â he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.Â
âYou donât have to,â you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Loganâs.Â
The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Loganâs breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. âYou okay?â He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.Â
You hum. âIâm perfect,â you mumble, burying your face into his chest. âDo you reallyâŠâ You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened.Â
âYes,â Logan answers immediately. âI meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.â
You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. âI want that too, Lo,â you sigh. âMore than anything.â You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldnât leave you alone. You canât help but giggle at the thought.
âWhatâs so funny?â Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice.Â
You look up at him. âYouâre crazy, you know that?â You joke, your smile widening. âYou couldâve hurt that guy.â
Loganâs smile widens too. âJust crazy about you,â he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. âShouldâve kicked his ass.â You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. âYouâre my girl,â he groans, sliding out of you slightly.Â
âYours,â you breathe as he thrusts back in. âAll yours.â
tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour
#Logan Howlett x reader#Wolverine x reader#James Logan Howlett x reader#Logan Howlett x reader smut#Wolverine x reader smut#James Logan Howlett x reader smut#Logan Howlett smut#Wolverine smut#James Logan Howlett smut#Logan Howlett x you#Wolverine x you#James Logan Howlett x you#Logan Howlett breeding kink#Logan Howlett x you smut#Wolverine x you smut#James Logan Howlett x you smut#Logan Howlett x reader breeding kink#Logan Howlett imagine#Wolverine imagine#James Logan Howlett imagine#X Men Imagine#X-Men imagine#Hugh Jackman#Deadpool and Wolverine#Logan Howlett fluff#Logan Howlett x reader fluff#Logan Howlett x you fluff
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okay so I canât help but get the lyric âwashing my hair, doing the laundry, late night tv, I want you onlyâ by Miss Lana Del Rey herself out of my head. I keep thinking about it having something to do with Logan! More like X1 Logan (but any era you want) and maybe reader just saying it to Logan during soft and gentle sex after a long day? Iâm feeling very cliche tonight. (love your writing btw)đ
thank you for the kindness, sweetheart! this has been slowly corroding my soul recently so, absolutely yes. this is sooooo cage fighter!logan! đàŸàœČàŸàœČ
this is my first long, smutty fic. please be gracious with myself, and my work!
beautiful, deep normality.
nsfwâ minors dni, please âË đŠąă»â⧠: my ode to lana x logan, not proofread, SMUT, oral (f recieving), copious "i love yous" during sex, fem!reader, cage fighter!logan, established relationship, spit (with love)
3:08 am. and no sign of him yet. cradling a bin of laundry to your hip, you ignore the exhaustion pulling at your shoulders, waltzing through your small home, tinted blue by a lonely moonlight. the small tv in the corner, usually crowded by a grumpy logan in his favorite recliner, hums lowlyâ static on static, you feel electric waiting for him to come home.
the velcro rollers lightly pull on the baby hairs at the nape of your neck, and tracing your fingernails over the offending pull does nothing to quell the stinging. the house feels empty without the presense of logan, without the feel of his towering being lurking on shadows of the walls or placing weight onto your bed. your chest bounces, up & down, as a glimpse of a life without logan settles on you like the soft weight of his white beater you wear.
waiting up for logan was never an easy feat, in fact, it's the hardest part of your day. waiting for greatness, for comfort, for ease and safety had the hairs on your arms pricking in anticipation. i wonder if he's thinking of me, you pause your folding minstrations to ponder, though you know the answer. "always am babydoll," he'd say, "just can't seem to shake you."
the scrape of the front door breaks you out of your trance, you turn, a small smile resting on your sleepy face. the house seems warmer, the nauseating blue of the grainy tv seems brighterâ all because of him.
logan looks down as he enters the small space, shaking his keys in his left hand as he shrugs off his denim jacket; lined with the gorgeous, warm flannel pattern you sewed in for him a few weeks ago.
he doesn't meet your eyes as he toes his boots off, softly moving to his chair with the silent shuffle of his socks on the wooden floor. he plops himself down with an exasperated head shake, leaning his head back to rest when you notice it. a deep cut on his lip, healing slower than the rest of him.
"baby? oh, baby, what happened?" you coo, rushing over to him to perch yourself on the arm of the reclinerâ your usual spot. staring ahead at the late night talk show on the television, his hand instantly assumes its place, resting on your hip as he sighs, "'s nothin. shit day, is all." you nod, understanding why he blankets himself with silence; his work life is reduced to hit, after hit, all to provide for you & him.
your long nails scratch the hair at the nape of his neck, a desperate attempt for him to meet your eyes. his eyes flutter closed, the bright neon of cable swiping across his exhausted, sweaty face like a kaleidoscope. your other hand reaches up, lazily, gently, swiping across his face & tracing his beard. logan growls low in his chest with affection, and for a moment you think he'll meet your eyesâ abandon the shame of his labor, the metal corroding sadness that a girl as beautiful as you is stuck with him in this shitty apartment. but he doesn't. this must've been a terribly exhausting day for him, you think to yourself.
with a light tap to your hip, his lips curled inward, logan stands and stretches his arms above his head. his triceps tense as he attempts to find relief, staring at the ceiling as he decompresses. he's too far away, much too far away.
"lo?" you rise from the chair, your his beater riding up across your tummy as you gaze up at him. "hm?" his hand rubs across his hairy cheeks and chin, his eyes finally opening to look at you.
in this light, his stature looks larger than usual. broad shoulders highlighted by the moonlight filtering in from the broken blinds. chest heaving in and out of the light reflecting from the kitchenâ making a stripe across his white beater, in and out with his breath. his hands twitch, making a fist & releasing with the scattered applause on the television, and his socks dig into the soft carpet beneath his feet. stale sweat glistens on his face, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone as the overhead fan slightly blows hair across his foreheadâ the gel you put in for him this morning having melted from his match tonight.
and you want him. the thought of the weight of him on top of you consumes you, for a moment. so big, so scary and mean to the outside world, but so gentle to you. he needs that gentleness now, you can see it in his loving, hazel eyes. you & he stare at one another for a few beats before you speak, your hair rollers clacking as you maintain, "i want you, logan."
he was thinking it, too. just.. after the matches he went through today, he had no idea how to tell you just how much he wants you, too. logan's breath stutters, the strip of light from the kitchen bleeds into his shirt as he moves closer to you. eyes softening with desire, you double down, "i want you on me, logan. all the time." your head bobs as you nod, needing him to understand just how much you adore him.
breathless, though you've both been in this position many times, he wraps his arm behind your back, pulling you into him desperately. it seems that he's finally taken his first breath of the night, like he's finally free and safeâ no longer King of the Cage when he's with you. logan's hand slides down your trembling arm, moving yours to rest above his heart as he cradles your head to him, "so sweet to me. i don't understand it."
"don't need you to, lo. just need you to know it... know that i want you. always will" sighing into his chest, you tear up. he pulls you back, a piece of hair falling over his forehead as he gazes down at you. in the darkness of your home, he tears up too, kissing you with both hands cradling your face, "take care'a me. need you so much right now" he stutters between kisses.
it's a blur, the descent into your bedroom, logan guiding you backwards as he kisses you. somehow, despite the lack of vision and control, this is the safest you've felt all day. he lays you down on your bed, hair framing your face as you smile up at him. and one finally stretches across his face, too. "beautiful. too fuckin' beautiful, ah christ, you make me ache" logan smiles, hand coming up to touch his chest in a movement of genuine infatuation. and you giggle at him, and his smile grows wider as he nips at your collarbone, hands framing your face like he is almost afraid to touch you.
the curlers dig into the back of your head as he moves down your body, lips dragging across cotton and skin. "did'ya think of me today, bub?" he asks, mid sniff of the skin of your womb, warm from his touch. you nod down at him, a little embarassed and flushed. "yeah?" logan smiles "when? when'dya think of me?" he pauses his movements to relish in your shynessâ ever the tease. closing your eyes, your hand falling across them as you giggle, you place one hand in his hair and sigh, "washing my hair... doing the laundry... every second, lo" sweet, loving eyes stare up at you mid-kiss as the moment grows serious, you repeat "every second." logan grunts in response, calloused fingers peeling your white panties down your legs as his hands run down themâ eager to touch as much of you as he can at once.
placing your legs over his strong, but weary shoulders, he leans in to lick a stripe up your cunt, gooey spit warming your thighs. logan sighs breathlessly into you, kissing and nipping at your button as his eyes close in relaxation. this is just as much for him, as it is for you.
his blunt fingernails dig into the sheets beside you, afraid to touch, ever gracious with his meal. you bring his hand to yours, locking fingers as he looks up at you, tongue never ceasing his adoring attention as you writhe and pant. making love to logan is one thing, one soul-shattering experience, but this? this is logan making love to you with the same mouth he claims never knows what to say. but every word is gospel to you, every prod of his tongue, as well.
"so sweet" he finally speaks, voice gruff as he releases your hand to cup your lovehandles, holding you in place. your release is right there, his nose leaving lovebumps on your clit as he swirls his tongue, dipping into a spot made by the universe only for him. you squeal, legs kicking his shoulders, as you attempt to back up from the intensity. but logan holds you in place, yanking you back to the edge of the bed, his heavy arm draping across your tummy to keep you in place as you wail. "c'mon sweet girl, 's okay, i can take it," he whispers, sloppily kissing your folds, big thumb reaching down off ur tummy to rub your clit in the sweetest little circles.
you cry out, mouth forming an "o" shape as you finish, logan mocking your face with a growing smile overtaking the wide-eyed "o", "'s a good girl... good girl, baby." bringing his thumb to his mouth, he licks the rest of you off of the pad quickly, moving back up to watch your face as you breathe and gather yourself.
the weight of him on top of you feels so good, so fulfilling, so right. you're so interlinked with one another, that as you whine from the aftershocks, he whines lowly with you unconsciouslyâ your pleasure is his, it seems. with a hand behind his neck, fingers once again twirling in the hairs at the nape, you pull him into a kiss as he groans. "so good" he chides, "want you all around me, honey."
he pushes his jeans and boxers down, throwing his belt to the floor with a clink & raising his eyebrows in slight shock at the sound. you laugh, and he looks back at you with a flushed face, bad day seeming further and further away as the end-of-summer air floats in from the window. your back arches as he places his pillow beneath your hips, always wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.
logan lays fully on top of you, kissing you as you drag your nails down his back. pulling back, he exhales in pleasure at the dragâ a welcomed pain, compared to the punches he'd taken, to appear normal, of course, at the bar. his hand trembles as he leans down, holding his cock in his hand as he drags it across your weeping cunt.
logan's breath falters, catching in his chest like a tied satin bow, "you love me?" he asks you. "y-yes... so much.. so so much, logan" you remind him, growing desperate for all of him, always.
"you-you want me?" his eyes are closed as he asks you, too afraid to look, too afraid to face the possibility that maybe one day, you won't. you cup his face, feeling the dried down mixture of his spit and your pleasure on his beard. no words are spoken as you nod, looking into your lover's eyes with sincerity. he mirrors your nod, interlinked as always, and slowly pushes into you, eyes clenching shut as he grits out "fuuuck, my baby."
logan bottoms out, letting you catch your breath from the stretch of him. he breaths roughly through his nose, gaining his control as he gets lost in the sounds, the smells of your shared apartment. the tv, long unwatched, continues to blare in the living room. the ceiling fan clicks with each rotation, and you're underneath himâ as soft and pliant and good at taking him as you've always been.
lurching forward, logan connects your lips, a slight drag in his hips; back and forth, back and forth. you whine, lips parting in bliss as he looks at you, a line of spit connecting you as you pout. his head falls, one hand placed atop of your head as he wiggles his hips into you, deep enough that you swear he can feel your heart beating. "i want you. every... every fuckin' minute i'm awake, d'ya understand me?" he gushes, finally letting himself go in the pleasure, in the pain, exhaustion and you.
"i-i understand" you whisper as his hips lightly pick up his pace. there's so much slick between you, that when he slips out for a moment, he's gutted, frantically trying to find that warmth again as he pants, "theeeere we go... thas' good, thas' right"
the domesticity, the weight, the way he trusts youâ all of it leads to you losing your breath, back arching as you warn "l-lo, 'm gonna...i-" he cuts you off, head snapping back up from watching himself disappear into you to kiss you, hot tongue comforting you. "i love you, f-fuck, thank you for waitin' up for me. sweet girl, i fuckin' love you. come, c'mon, i wanna feel you"
and when you do, when the stars spread across your ceiling and your eyes roll back, you can feel his hips stutter. pulling logan closer to you, you whine "more more more" and the poor, exhausted man loses it, his head falling next to your own as you feel the full weight of his metal skeleton as he chokes out a final, thick, rumbling grunt.
losing his breath, logan pants, hand grasping to find your own as he comes down from his high, spend leaking onto the bed beneath you. "jus' a few more minutes, babydoll. tell 'er to love me for a few more minutes" he asks, slowly starting to fall asleep with his face in the mattress, as your cunt clenches, loves around him.
an uncomfortable position? sure, but he won't move, you couldn't even make him. nothing could stop him from needing you, always, just as much as you need him.
the ceiling fan squeaks, the tv drones, the moonlight bathes him, the rollers pull at your hair, and he's finally home, in you.
#thank you for the submission sweetheart!#cherry loves logan so so so much <3#logan howlett smut#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett angst#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#wolverine angst#james logan howlett fluff#james logan howlett smut#james logan howlett x reader#james logan howlett angst#hugh jackman x reader#đ anon
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This is Ours [Logan Howlett]
Summary: It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand.
Warnings: fem!reader, SMUT, sexual tension, angst, fluff, lots of feelings WC: 18.8k - MASTERLIST
A/N: apologies for dropping another long fic but i literally could not stop writing the juices were flowing. i really hope you enjoy this! i think its my fave so far :)
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For as long as you can remember, summers were synonymous with your grandparents' farm. It was a tradition, one you held close to your heart. To you, your time there embodied your entire childhoodâdays spent under the sun, where the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the soothing chorus of cicadas filling the long, golden afternoons.
Mornings began early, with you bounding downstairs to join your grandparents for breakfast. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes. Your grandfather would be at the table, engrossed in his newspaper, while your grandmother hummed softly as she cooked, the sound of the morning radio playing faintly in the background. Your days were spent exploring the fields, helping with the chores and horses, or sitting on the porch with your grandmother, listening to stories from her youth.
It couldnât get any more perfect than that.Â
But as the years passed, things changed. After you graduated high school, the summer visits became less frequent. University took up more of your time, and you were always busyâfirst with classes, then with internships, and finally with starting your career. The farm, once the centre of your world, became a place you could only visit if you were lucky, and even then, it was never for long.Â
You miss it.
This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break youâd had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go.Â
â
The drive to your grandparents' farm is a journey into the past. The country road, lined with trees that stretched out like old friends, brings back a flood of memories from your childhood: where youâre sitting in the back of your parentâs car vibrating with excitement. You pass the same fields, still as vast and green as you remember, dotted with flowers swaying gently in the breeze, and the old oak tree where you used to swing as a child stands tall, its branches reaching up to the sky as if welcoming you back.
When you finally pull up to the farmhouse, the sight of it fills you with a deep sense of nostalgia. The white paint is more chipped than you remember, the porch sags a little more in the middle, and you can tell that itâs been a while since the grass was last trimmed.Â
Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and thereâs your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. Sheâs smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the sameâwarm, welcoming, and full of love. âThereâs my girl,â she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can.Â
âGrandma!â you exclaim, hurrying toward her to wrap her in a hug.
She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling despite the lines of age etched on her face. âYouâve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. Weâll fix that with some good meals, wonât we?â
You laugh, nodding. âI missed your cooking.â
âAnd I missed having someone to cook for,â she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. âCome inside. Your grandpaâs been counting down the days until you got here.â
You grab your suitcase from your car and follow her into the house, the familiar scents of fresh bread and old wood enveloping you the minute you step inside. Itâs just as you rememberâcozy, lived-in, filled with the glow of years worth of love and memories. Your grandfather sits at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads a book. He looks up as you enter, and the moment he sees you, his face breaks into a wide grin.
âThereâs my favourite farmhand,â he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair.Â
âGrandpa,â you say, meeting him halfway for a hug.Â
âGot here just in time,â he says with a wink. âPlenty of work to do, you know.â
âI figured,â you reply, playfully nudging him. âIâm ready to get my hands dirty.â
âGood to hear,â he says, leaning back against the table for support. âThis old back of mine isnât what it used to be.â
Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. âWeâve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,â she begins gently. âYour grandpa and I⊠well, we canât do as much as we used to.â
You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficultâit's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.
âWeâve hired some help,â she continues. âA man named Logan. Heâs been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But heâs⊠well, heâs not much of a talker.â
âLogan?â you ask, glancing out the window.Â
Thatâs when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. Heâs wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell heâs strongâhe looks like he knows what heâs doing.Â
âYeah, Logan,â your grandfather confirms. âKeeps to himself mostly, but heâs getâs the job done. Donât mind his gruffness; heâs just not used to people fussing over him.â
âHeâs been here since last spring,â your grandmother adds. âWe needed the help, and he needed the work. Itâs been good for both sides. You should go and introduce yourself after you unpack, dear. Maybe get in some work before we sit for dinner later.â
Nodding, you walk up the stairs in the house and make your way to your room. It looks exactly the same as the last time you saw it. Your old stuffed animals are organized neatly on the shelf above the bed, and the quilt your grandmother made for you, with patches of faded fabric from old dresses and curtains, is spread across the bed the exact same way itâs always been.Â
The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresserâeverything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. Itâs comforting, but also a little bittersweet, a reminder of how much time has passed since you had last visited.
After a few moments of reminiscing, you stand up and begin unpacking, carefully placing your clothes in the old wooden dresser. Each drawer creaks as you open it, the sound a part of this roomâs charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behindâa pressed flower between the pages of an old book, a seashell from a family trip to the coast, and last, a picture of you and your grandparents taken one summer when you were about ten.
Youâre standing between them, beaming with a toothy grin, their arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. The three of you are standing in front of the barn, with the sun setting behind you. You can almost hear your grandmotherâs laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfatherâs playful grumbling about having to pose for âjust one more picture.â The photo captures a moment of pure happiness, a snapshot of a simpler time.
Setting the photo down, you quickly begin to change into your designated farm clothes, and head out to meet the new face around here.Â
The trek to the barn isnât very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of workâfootsteps crunching on the hay-strewn floor, the creak of wood as something heavy is moved. You pause at the doorway, taking a moment to observe him before stepping inside. Heâs focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others.Â
You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. âLogan?â you call out softly.
He doesnât stop what heâs doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and thereâs a moment where youâre not sure what to say. âIâmââ
âI already know who you are,â he grunts, cutting you off.Â
His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. âRight. I guess that makes sense.â
âIf you wanna help, thereâs a broom in the back shed,â he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. âYou could sweep up the hay.â
You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but youâre determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasnât much of a talker. âSure,â you say. âI can do that.â
As you turn to head toward the back shed, you find yourself lightly imitating his gruff tone under your breath, a flicker of irritation running through you. âThereâs a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,â you mutter.
In the shed, the broom is in fact, exactly where you expected it to be, and you huff, grabbing it and walking back to the barn. When you return, Logan is still hard at work, stacking the hay, and doesnât bother to acknowledge you yet again. You set to work sweeping, the rhythmic motion of the broom soon lulling you into a steady state. The barn is quiet, save for the soft shuffling of hay under your broom and the occasional grunt from Logan as he moves the heavy bales.
Time seems to pass slowly, the light outside growing softer as the sun dips lower in the sky. Youâre so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Loganâs footsteps stop. Itâs only when his voice breaks the silence that youâre pulled back to the present.
âYour grandma called for dinner,â he says, causing you to jump a bit at the unexpectedness of his voice in the silence. Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the broom still in hand. You let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders. This is going to be a long few months, you think to yourself as you return the broom to its usual place and jog back to the farmhouse.
Inside, the kitchen smells like a warm hearty stew. The table is already set, the familiar blue-and-white checkered tablecloth in place, and your grandparents are seated, chatting quietly as they wait for you and Logan to join them.
You slide into the seat across from your grandmother just as Logan walks over from the sink, two glasses of water in his hands. He places one in front of you with a quick nod, and the other at his own seat, beside yours.
âSo,â your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. âI take it youâve introduced yourselves to each other?â
You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. âYeah, we have,â you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that.Â
Logan doesnât say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesnât seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if heâs always this closed off or if itâs just his way of dealing with new people.
âWell, thatâs good,â your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. âLoganâs been a big help around here. Weâre so grateful to have him.â
Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, âHeâs got a strong work ethic. Doesnât shy away from the tough jobs, thatâs for sure.â
Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. âThatâs great. Itâs good to know the farmâs in good hands.â Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it.Â
As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what youâve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews youâve had, the options youâre considering, and the challenges youâve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you canât help but notice the manâs presence beside you, still silent.Â
At one point, when youâre talking about finding a new apartment, you hear him let out a quiet scoff, and you cast a look over, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. Itâs gone almost as quickly as it appears, but itâs enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is heâs thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isnât the time or place, not in front of your grandparents who are just happy to have everyone around the table.
They continue to chat with you, asking more about your plans and offering their usual words of encouragement. When dinner finally wraps up, your grandmother insists on cleaning up, waving you off when you offer to help. âYouâve had a long day, dear. Why donât you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.â
You smile. âThanks, Grandma.â
Heâs already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but itâs like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off.Â
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The next morning, you wake before dawn, the world still wrapped in the gentle embrace of night, and for a moment, you lie still, listening to the deep, pulsing of the houseâthe way the wooden floors creak slightly as they settle, the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. The comfort of knowing your grandparents are asleep down the hall brings a sense of calm that you havenât felt in a long time.
Deciding to take advantage of the early hour, you slip out of bed, your feet brushing against the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the muscles in your body slowly wake. You dress quietly, pulling on a soft, worn sweater, and pad downstairs, careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that you know will creak.
You move through the kitchen as if on autopilot, your hands knowing exactly where everything is. You set the coffee to brew, and the rich aroma sills the room.
Reaching for the eggs, you crack a few of them into a bowl, and as youâre whisking, you let your mind wander, thinking about how to spend the day. The soft sizzle of butter in the pan gets your attention and you pour the eggs in, watching as they begin to set around the edges.Â
You pour yourself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug in delicate spirals, and you take a sip, savouring the warmth and flavour hitting your tongue, while your gaze drifts over to the window that faces the back of the farmhouse.Â
Your grandparentsâ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that theyâre still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you canât help but smile into your mug.Â
Slowly, you walk a bit closer to the window, eager to take in the view you had been missing all these years, when a figure standing over by the horses catches your eye. Itâs Logan, a small surprise given the early hourâyou didnât hear him wake upâbut he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand.Â
You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. Thereâs something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didnât expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday.Â
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another apple, offering it to the second horse, who hungrily accepts it. You continue to stare at the sight outside. This side of himâso different from the unapproachable exterior heâs shown so farâstirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if thereâs more to him than meets the eye.
On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast youâve just buttered, and without overthinking it, you head outside. The morning air is cool against your skin as you make your way over to Logan.Â
As you approach, he keeps his attention focused on the horses. You take a moment, then clear your throat lightly, holding out the coffee with a tentative smile. âThought you might want some breakfast,â you offer, trying to keep your tone light and friendly.
He finally glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. His expression is just as unreadable his had been in the last sixteen hours youâve known him, and then he grunts, âAlready ate,â and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.
His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. Itâs not like youâre asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why heâs like this.Â
âAlright,â you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen.Â
Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. You feel a tad bit awkward. Youâre going to be spending the next however-many-months with him, and you would love it if you could at the very least, get along. His rough-around-the-edges personality is not making this enjoyable for you, and youâre sure that he probably just seeâs you as an annoying nuisance.Â
And itâs not like youâre ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that heâs acting like he owns the place. You get it, heâs been here for a for a while, and itâs only been him doing the work, blah blah. But youâve been helping and doing the work your entire childhoodâmissing a few years doesnât take away that fact.Â
With a heavy sigh, you open a cupboard and pull out a plate, scraping the eggs off the pan and setting them on it. Because your grandparentsâ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.
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Youâve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. Thereâs always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think itâs best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take.Â
Once youâve finished cleaning the dishes and pan, you go back upstairs into your room and get changed. Today, you put on a long sleeve, and a small vest over top. Your pants are some hand-me-down working pants from one of your older cousins, and you snatch a baseball cap from your closet for when it begins to get hotter out.Â
Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everythingâs been cut. Moving over to the back section of the lawn, you set the trimmer and rake against the barn and start using the mower. Itâs the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so itâs a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones youâve seen around the city.Â
You canât really complain about it, so you just begin, the steady repetitive action of moving the tool back and forth being somewhat therapeutic. The smell of freshly cut grass begins to hit your senses, and you truly feel at peace.Â
As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. Youâre completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. Youâve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life.Â
Youâre just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesnât say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.
Thereâs a brief moment of eye-contact, like a subtle unspoken recognition to the effort you seem to be putting in. He gives you a small nod, and turns to focus on his task. The two of you work side by side, the hum of the machines, the scent of fresh-cut grass, and the warm sun overhead creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.Â
When you finally finish, few hours have passed, and you walk back over to the barn and grab a lawn bag and the rake. And because Loganâs machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass.Â
You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the otherâthe grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you canât help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan wonât notice, but of course, heâs right there, watching as you flail around.
You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but before you can say anything, he steps forward. Like usual it seems, he doesnât say a word, just holds out his hand as if asking for the rake. You falter briefly, not wanting to seem like you need his help, but at the same time you understand how much more efficient it would be if he joined.Â
Reluctantly, you hand it over, and he immediately starts working with the same steady efficiency he brought to trimming the grass. With both hands free, you manage the lawn bag more effectively, holding it open as Logan rakes the grass into neat piles.
The silence between you isnât uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morningâs work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby.Â
After the last of the grass is finally raked and bagged, you tie off the lawn bag and glance over at him. He leans the rake against the barn wall and meets your gaze. Thereâs something in the way he seems to stare at you head on this time, rather than just a quick look, that makes your chest fill with satisfaction.Â
You nod. âThanks.â
Logan dips his chin in return, then turns and heads back toward the barn. The heat of the sun really starts to hit you now, and you take a peak at your watch, noticing that itâs already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, heâs probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone.Â
â
The next couple of weeks unfold in the same way, moving with an almost predictable rhythm. Each morning, you wake before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed while your grandparentâs are still asleep. As you prepare and eat breakfast, you take your usual place by the kitchen window, watching as Logan interacts with the horses.Â
Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a wordâhis presence now a familiar and abating part of your routineâor sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know heâs never far away.Â
Youâve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isnât necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesnât speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.
One morning, as youâre finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. âWe need to run some errands and pick up a few things,â your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. âBut we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.â
âThey havenât been to the pond in a while. Itâs good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.â Your grandfather chimes in.Â
You nod, smiling at the thought. The pond is a beautiful spot, a peaceful place where the water runs clear and cool, surrounded by tall trees and soft grass. Itâs the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. âThat sounds like a great idea. Iâll take them out there for the day.â
Your grandmotherâs eyes light up as she hands you a basket. âI packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. Itâll be a lovely day for it.â
âThank you,â you say, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the preparations. You take the basket and head upstairs to get ready, the idea of spending the day by the pond filling you with excitement. Itâs been a long time since youâve been there last.Â
In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that youâve always loved for its comfort and ease. You slip on a loose shirt and shorts over it, then grab a few essentials before heading back downstairs. Your grandparents have already left, so you make your way out to the barn to prepare the horses.
As you start saddling them up, you notice Logan nearby, focused on his usual tasks. His presence has become so customary to you that you hardly think twice before calling out to him. âHey, Logan,â you say, catching his attention.
âIâm heading to the pond with the horses,â you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. âGrandmaâs packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. Youâre welcome to join us if youâd like.â
He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, âIâve never ridden a horse before.â
The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. âReally? But youâve been here for over a year. I just assumedââ
He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. âIâve always just walked alongside them. Holdinâ onto the reins is one thing, but Iâve never actually been on top of one.â
You canât help the small smile that tugs at your lips. âThatâs okay,â you say gently. âYou can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if youâre up for it, Iâll teach you how to ride.â
Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. âAlright. Iâll come with you.â
âGreat,â you reply, your smile widening. âI think youâll enjoy it.â
With that settled, you both finish preparing for the trip. Logan helps you load the picnic basket, blanket, and towels onto one of the horses. You mount your favourite horse, and gently click your heels into its side, starting the trip as he begins walking, horses in tow, beside you.Â
The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horsesâ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, itâs silent.Â
When you reach the pond, the sight is just as picturesque as you remembered. The water sparkles under the sunlight, the tall trees casting dappled shadows across the grassy bank. You untie the horses, giving them plenty of room to graze and explore, before you grab the picnic basket, while he grabs the towels and blankets. Making your way over to the other side of the creek, you find a nice open patch of grass to set up on.
âIâm going for a quick dip,â you say as you go about stepping out of your shorts. Logan, who is sitting down, looks up, but his eyes seem to stop dead in their tracks when they settle on your body. You swear you can physically see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of you stripping off your shirt. Itâs subtle, but a small shiver runs down your spine at the attention nonetheless.
Without waiting for a response, you turn and and head toward the pond. The temperature is perfect: just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.
You dive in, the reservoir embracing you as a much-needed relief from the heat. Everything feels perfectâthe gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface.Â
But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.
Heâs lying back on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, and his focus is squarely on you. The intensity of his stare is like a physical force, pinning you in place. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel a heat build within you, starting in your chest and traveling down, deeper, and deeperâŠBut then, just as suddenly as it began, he looks away, and if you were any closer, you may have been able to spot the red flush creeping up the back of his neck and to the tip of his ears.
The moment is over, but the enduring feeling of it stays with you as you swim back to the shore. Water drips from your body as you step out, and you reach for one of the towels your grandmother packed. Once youâve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket.Â
You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time thereâs a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if heâs trying to be discreet but canât quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.
âIâm starving,â you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. âWant one?â
He nods, sitting up a little straighter as you hand him a sandwich. After a few bites, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to break the ice. âSo,â you start, glancing over at him, âhow did you end up here, working on my grandparentsâ farm?â
He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. âI was passing through,â he says finally. âDidnât plan on stayinâ. But your grandparents⊠theyâre good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.â
You nod, taking another bite. âThey are good people,â you agree, thinking of how much theyâve done for you over the years. âBut where were you headed before that? Where are you from?â
Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. âAlberta,â he says. âGrew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Albertaâs homeâor was.â
You smile, finding comfort in the fact that heâs sharing a bit more. âAlbertaâs beautiful,â you say, remembering the few times youâd traveled through the province. âWhyâd you leave?â
He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. âNeeded a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movinâ around, never really settlinâ anywhere.â
You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. âMust have been hard, never really having a place to call home.â
His gaze meets yours, and thereâs a hint of something softer in his eyes. âYeah,â he admits, his voice quieter. âBut your grandparents⊠theyâve made it easier. This farm⊠itâs good.â
You smile warmly at him. âIâm glad youâre here. Youâve been a huge help to them. And⊠well, Iâve liked having you around.â
He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. âYeah, itâs been alright,â he mutters, a small, imperceptible smirk on his lips. You smile bashfully.
The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Not much conversation happens, but rather, these weird periods of time where you feel as though your eyes are glued to him, and he you. Itâs differentâunexpectedâand to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze.Â
Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasnât just his face that pulled you in, it was him. The way he would silently help you with chores, his soft moments every morning with the horses, the way he subtly looks over your grandparentsâ when he thinks they arent watching. All of it. You want to spend more time with him, learn more about who he is, what he likes⊠all of it.
Soon enough, you both begin to pack up the picnic supplies, load up the horses, and head back to the farm. The horses seem content, having had a fun day grazing and napping by the pond, and you ride beside him as he walks. Every now and then, you catch him peeking up at you from under his eyelashes, his eyes lingering just a bit longer each time.Â
You can see your grandparentâs car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning theyâve also returned from their day in the city. Leading the horses back into the barn, the two of you go through the motions of the familiar routine of unsaddling them, brushing them down, and making sure theyâre comfortable for the night.Â
Once theyâre all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you.Â
âSo âbout tomorrowâŠâ He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. âYou really think you can teach me to ride?â
You grin excitedly. âOf course. Iâll come out after Iâve eaten breakfast.â
âAlright then,â he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. âLookinâ forward to it.â
Your fingers are twitching at your sides as you watch him leave. You wait a few moments, then head out as well, closing and locking up the barn for the night. When you step into the house, you find your grandparents in the living room, their faces lit by the soft glow of a lamp as they relax on the chesterfield.Â
âHow was your day?â your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.
âIt was nice,â you reply. âThe horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.â
Your grandfather, whoâs been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. âAnd Logan? Did he go with you?â
You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. âYeah, he came along. Heâs never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But Iâm going to teach him tomorrow.â
Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmotherâs eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. âThatâs good, dear. Heâs a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell heâs got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.â
Chatting with your grandparentâs a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Loganâs footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster.Â
â
Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. Heâs leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.Â
âMorning,â you greet. âYou ready to get started?â
Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. âReady as Iâll ever be.â
You lead him over to the horses, choosing one of the gentler ones for him to work with, and begin by showing him how to properly saddle the horse, explaining each step as you go. Logan watches intently, though you can see the slight furrow in his brow as he takes in all the information.
As soon as the horse is all saddled up, you hand him the reins. âOkay, now itâs your turn. Go ahead and mount up.â
He wavers for just a moment, his eyes on the horse as if weighing his options. But then, with a deep breath, he grabs the saddle and swings himself up with ease. He sits stiffly at first, his hands gripping the reins a bit too tightly, but he doesnât look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.
âYouâre doing great,â you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. âJust relax. The horse can sense if youâre tense, so try to loosen up a bit.â
He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. Itâs clear that heâs out of his comfort zone, but heâs determined to push through. You walk him through the basics of steering and controlling the horse, keeping your tone calm and encouraging.
After a few minutes, you guide him around the paddock, walking alongside the horse to make sure he feels secure. Logan follows your instructions with serious concentration, his movements becoming more and more natural as he gets used to the rhythm of the horseâs steps.
âYouâre doing really well,â you tell him, smiling up at him. âWant to try picking up the pace a little?â
He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. âYeah. Letâs give it a shot.â
You guide him through a gentle trot, staying close enough to offer guidance but giving him enough space to figure things out on his own. The horse picks up speed, and you watch as he adjusts, his body moving in sync with the animalâs movements. Thereâs a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes heâs actually getting the hang of it.
As the morning progresses, Logan becomes more comfortable in the saddle, his confidence growing with each passing minute. You spend the next hour practicing different techniques, guiding him through turns, stops, and even a slow canter. Heâs a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell heâs starting to enjoy himself.
Eventually, you lead him back to the paddock, bringing the horse to a stop. He dismounts, still a bit tense but clearly pleased with himself. He hands you the reins, his eyes meeting yours with a look thatâs both grateful and slightly sheepish.
âNot bad for a first-timer,â you say with a grin, patting the horseâs neck.
He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. âYeah, well⊠youâre a good teacher.â
The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. Thereâs something about the way he says it, the sincerity in his tone, that makes you feel a warm glow inside. He begins to walk toward the back shed, undoubtedly going to start on his morning chores, but you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment just a bit longer.Â
âLogan,â you call out, stopping him in his tracks.
He turns back, his eyes questioning.
âThanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.â
Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. âYeah,â he says quietly. âMe too.â
â
The days come and go, blending into one another as your first month at the farm passes by in what feels like the blink of an eye. The sun seems to rise earlier and set later with each passing day, stretching the hours out in a way that makes everything feel both languid and endless, and the heat only intensifies, something you didnât think was possible.Â
Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Loganâs daily routines have now intertwined in a way that feels as natural as breathing. The once solitary moments you spent watching him out with the horses have now become something shared. Every morning, without fail, the two of you meet by the barn, where the horses greet you with soft nickers and eager eyes, ready for their daily ride.
Heâs improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and heâs able to guide his horse with an ease that surprises even him. You can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he holds the reins with a sureness that wasnât there before.Â
And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silenceâthe only sounds being the soft snorts of the horses and the creak of leather saddles. But more often than not, you chat about everything and nothing, your conversations easy and unforced.Â
Logan, who once spoke only in short, clipped sentences, has begun to open up more, sharing bits and pieces of his past, his thoughts, and his observations about life on the farm. You learn that he has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, one that often catches you off guard and leaves you laughing in spite of yourself. He even joins you for your usual morning breakfast of eggs and toast, something that started only a few days into your new morning ritual.Â
Yet throughout all of this, thereâs a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface.Â
It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that donât really seem to be as accidental as you may think. Itâs in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks youâre not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if heâs memorizing every movement.Â
Youâre not immune to it either. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the way his proximity seems to alter the air around you. In one afternoon, youâre in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. Itâs hard, sweaty work, but the itâs kind that leaves you with a satisfying ache in your muscles by the end of the day. Logan is beside you, lifting the heavy bales with ease, his shirt sticking to his back, outlining the broad expanse of his shoulders. You catch yourself staring, and quickly look away, but not before he flicks his eyes over to yours.
He doesnât say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. Itâs like theyâre telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring.Â
And when youâre both tending to the horses, something happens again. Youâre brushing one down, your fingers working through its mane, when Logan comes to stand beside you, so close that you can smell his natural musk.Â
âHere, let me help,â he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and heâs already looking down at you. Youâre acutely aware of the feel of his hand over yours, the callousness of his skin against your own, and the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as if testing the waters.
Another time, while fixing the fence out in the field, youâre both working in tandem, passing tools back and forth. At one point, you reach for a hammer at the same time Logan does, and your fingers brush against his. Itâs a fleeting touch, but it feels like a spark in the summer heat, and for a heartbeat, you both freeze, caught in that split second of contact.
âSorry,â you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what youâre actually feeling.
âNo problem,â Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool.Â
You can feel it. Youâre not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist itâhow much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and youâre not sure if what youâre feeling is reciprocated, or if itâs just wishful thinking on your part. So you stay silent, letting the tension simmer, hoping that one day, one of you will have the courage to break it.
â
Youâre not the only who seeâs it.Â
âYou know,â your grandmother says one afternoon, as youâre helping them with a puzzle. âLogan has really come out of his shell since youâve been here.â
You blink, and glance over at her. âWhat do you mean?â
She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. âOh, you know exactly what I mean,â she says with a knowing smile. âHeâs been here for over a year, and in all that time, weâve never seen him quite like this. Heâs always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now⊠well, itâs clear heâs become quite comfortable around you.â
Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. âSheâs right, you know. Loganâs always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, heâs been different. More⊠engaged, I suppose you could say.â
You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. âI-I donât know about that,â you stammer, trying to brush it off. âWe just⊠work together a lot. Thatâs all.â
Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. âDarling, donât be modest. Itâd be obvious to anyone that thereâs something going on between the two of you. Heâs practically a different man when heâs around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!â
âYouâve managed to do in weeks what we couldnât do in a year. Whatever it is, itâs good for him. And for you, too, Iâd wager,â your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink.Â
Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and youâre honestly not sure how to respond. âWeâre⊠friends,â you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them.Â
The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. âHmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that thereâs potential for something more there, if youâre both willing to see it.â
âI⊠I donât know,â you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. âHeâs just⊠heâs a complicated person.â
âEveryoneâs complicated, dear,â your grandfather says gently. âBut that doesnât mean theyâre not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.â
Thereâs a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadnât fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparentsâ teasing remarks, itâs impossible to ignore the possibility that there might be something more between you and Logan than just a budding friendship.
Your grandmother reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. âJust take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, weâre here for you.â
â
The following week, you find yourself itching for something newâa change in scenery. While the farm has been everything youâve wanted and more, you think itâd be nice to go on a drive, explore a small laketown you used to go to when you were younger. So, one morning, as you and Logan are unsaddling the horses, you muster the courage to extend an invitation thatâs been on your mind for days.
âSoâŠ,â you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. âI was thinking⊠maybe we could take a break from the farm this weekend and go into town. You know, just to get out for a bit, see something different.â
He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. âThe town?â he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.
âYeah,â you say, turning to face him fully. âI need to pick up a few things, and I thought it might be nice to have some company. We could grab lunch, maybe do some exploring⊠It doesnât have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.â
Thereâs a beat of silence as he considers your offer. His expression is guarded, as always, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. Itâs clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasnât done in a long timeâif ever.
âI donât know,â he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. âBusy places are not really my thing.â
You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but youâre not ready to give up just yet. âI get that,â you say. âBut itâs not about how many people are there, really. Itâs about taking a break. Youâve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,â you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.
Loganâs lips twitch as if heâs suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think heâs going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. âAlright,â he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. âIâll go.â
You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. âWeâll leave early on Saturday, okay?â
âSaturday it is,â he confirms.
ïżœïżœ
The rest of the week passes quickly, your anticipation for the trip into town growing with each passing day. You find yourself planning out the day in your head, imagining the places you might visit, the food you might try, and most of all, the chance to see Logan in a different environmentâaway from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.
So, when Saturday morning arrives, youâre up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothesâsomething comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attireâand head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.
âOff to the city today, are you?â your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.
âYep,â you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. âand Iâm dragging Logan along with me.â
Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. âWell, that should be interesting. Donât think heâs much of a city slicker.â
âBe patient with him, dear,â your grandmother adds, laughing. âHeâs stepping out of his comfort zone for you.â
âI will,â you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.
Loganâs already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you canât help but falter in your steps. The shirt heâs wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength thatâs always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and thereâs an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if heâs not quite sure what to do with them.
You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, âReady?âÂ
ââCourse,â he replies, climbing into the passenger seat as you slide behind the wheel.
The highways are empty and the sky is clear. You chat easily about the things you need to pick up, the cute boutiques you want to visit, and even a few memories of the last time you visited the place. Logan listens more than he talks, but you can tell heâs starting to relax, the tightness in his shoulders easing as the distance passes by.
When you finally reach the town, the energy along the streets is a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the farm. The buildings tower above you, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day.Â
Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. Itâs clear that heâs out of his element, but thereâs something cute about the way he takes it all in. âWhere to first?â He questions.Â
âWell,â you say, smiling at him, âI was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little cafĂ© I know, then hit a few shops. Thereâs a bookstore I love that I think youâd like too.â
He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. âLead the way.â
You spend the morning wandering around, exploring the shops, and enjoying a nice breakfast together. At the bookstore, you lose track of time, browsing through the shelves and picking out a few titles that catch your eye. Logan surprises you by finding a book on woodworking, something heâs always been interested in but never had much time for. You can see the way his eyes light up as he flips through the pages, and it makes you smile, happy to see him enjoying something for himself.
After spending a few more hours of exploring, you suggest one last stop before heading backâa lookout point that offers a stunning view of the lake and the surrounding landscape. Logan agrees, and you drive up to the spot, parking the truck and leading him to a bench that overlooks the water.
The view is breathtaking. You both sit in silence for a while, just taking in the scenery, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. He is staring out into the water with a thoughtful expression when you decide to interrupt his stupor.
âLogan,â you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, âwhat did you think of me when we first met?â
He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasnât expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.
âI thought you were different,â he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. âYou didnât act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldnât do that.â
You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you werenât just a visitorâyou were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. âAnd now?â you ask, your heart beginning to beat just a little faster.
He remains quiet for a few moments, his focus still on the water. When he finally speaks, heâs timid, almost bashful, as if heâs revealing something heâs kept hidden for a long time.Â
âI think youâre beautiful,â he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. âI thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But itâs more than that. Now⊠now I think youâre perfect.â
The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth parts in surprise, and all you can do is gawk, trying to process the depth of what heâs just said.
Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. âI was⊠cold at first,â he murmurs, âDidnât know how else to act. You werenât like anyone Iâd ever met. I didnât know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didnât shy away from thatâyou didnât let my attitude push you away. That changed somethinâ in me.â
You want to say somethingâyou should say somethingâto acknowledge what he just said, bearing in mind that was probably the most amount of words to come out of his mouth in one go, but for some reason, you canât. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.
âWhat about you?â His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. âWhat was your first impression of me?â
His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gulp, now knowing that your first impression of him was very different to his of you.Â
âHonestly? I thought you were rude as hell,â you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. âYou were so gruff, so serious⊠I didnât know what to make of you at first. But then I saw the way you took care of the horses, the way you looked after the farm, and⊠it didnât take long for my opinion to change.â
He shifts, clearly caught off guard. You can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he takes in what you said, and it makes your smile widen.Â
âAndâŠYouâre kind,â you continue. âThereâs this gentleness about you that I wasnât expecting.â You suck in a shaky breath. âI think youâre pretty perfect now too, if Iâm being honest.â
The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. Itâs a rare sightâseeing him like thisâand it makes you swoon.Â
âI donât know about thatâŠâ He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips.Â
âI do,â you reply firmly. âYouâre more than you think you are, Logan.â
The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for somethingâreassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what youâre saying is real. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you both lean in closer, locked in a stare, your breaths mingling as the space between you shrinks. You can see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel the same pull, the undeniable urge to close the distance and see what it would feel like to kiss him overriding all your senses.
Your chest pounds as you inch closer, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. But just as your lips are about to meet, a loud, piercing scream shatters the moment.
You both jerk back, startled, and whip your heads around to see a kid nearby, his face scrunched up in disgust as he frantically wipes at his shoulder. âEw! A seagull just pooped on me!â
The kidâs parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you canât help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the interruption. The sound of your laughter is contagious, and soon Logan is chuckling a bit too.
âWell, thatâs one way to kill the mood,â he mumbles under is breath.
Youâre still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. âYeah,â you agree, trying to catch your breath. âGuess we should be thankful it wasnât us.â
Logan grins, warm and wide. âYeah, maybe we should.â
â
Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and youâre fine with that. Thereâs no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You donât want there to be any sort of pressure between you, any expectations. Even if, deep down, all you want is to climb him like a tree, to feel the solid strength of him beneath your hands, and to finally give in to the attraction thatâs been building throughout your time together.Â
Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. âThanks for today,â he says sincerely âI⊠liked it.â
You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. âMe too,â you reply, your voice just as soft. âWe should do it again sometime.â
âYeah,â Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. âWe should.â
â
A few days later, as everyone sits around the kitchen table after dinner, the evening suddenly takes on a new tone when your grandmother clears her throat and shoots an exchanges a conspiratorial glance at your grandfather.
âWeâve got some news,â she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. âYour grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summersâ cottage by the lake.â
You smile, genuinely happy for them. The Summers are longtime friends of your grandparents, and the idea of them getting a little vacation away sounds perfect. âThat sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.â
âWell, we thought so too,â your grandfather says. âBut that means weâll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.â
It takes a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. You and Logan⊠alone⊠for an entire week.
Your heart skips a beat and you glimpse over at Logan, whoâs sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But thereâs a quick flash of something that suggests heâs as aware of the situation as you are.
A voice brings you back to the moment. âNow, donât worry,â she says with a reassuring smile. âThereâs not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And weâll be back before you know it.â
Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. âWe trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,â he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. âAnd to keep an eye on each other.â
You canât help but blush at his not-so-subtle innuendo, and you quickly drop your gaze to your hands, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks. The thought of spending an entire week alone with Logan is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. The lack of a bufferâyour grandparentsâmeans that literally anything could happen.Â
âDonât worry,â you finally manage to say. âWeâve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.â
Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. âYeah,â he agrees, âWeâll take care of everything.â
â
Over the next couple of days, your grandparents pack their bags and make sure everything is in order before they leave. You help them with the small details, ensuring that the house is stocked with food and that all the usual chores are delegated properly.
Finally, the morning of their departure arrives. You stand by the front door, watching as your grandparents load their bags into the car. Your grandmother gives you a warm hug, âTake care, dear,â she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passengerâs seat.Â
Your grandfather shakes Loganâs hand, giving him a firm nod. âTake care of things.â
He hums. âI will. Enjoy yourselves.â
With that, your grandparents climb into the car, and after a final wave, they drive down the long, dusty road that leads away from the farm.Â
Thereâs a pause.Â
Suddenly, youâve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing.Â
âSo,â you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. âI guess itâs just us now.â
Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. âYeah,â he replies a bit deeper than usual. âJust us.â
âWhat should we do first?â you ask as casually as possible.Â
He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. âSame old, I guess. Canât let everythinâ fall apart right when they leave..â
âTrue. Letâs start with that.â
The two of you move into that familiar routine of farm work. Mucking out the stalls, hauling bags of feed from the shed to the barn, tending to the vegetable garden, you do it all. But even though youâre busy with work, thereâs an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each otherâs presence that just wasnât there before. And itâs impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of whatâs to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration.Â
That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, youâre in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents thereâemptier, yet somehow more intimate. Domestic. You can hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he enters the house, the sound of him washing up in the sink.
And as the evening wears on, you find yourself drawing out cleaning the dishes, not wanting to end the day just yet. Logan stays close, drying the plates and placing them back in the cupboards.
âLong day,â he grunts.
âYeah,â you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. âBut it was nice. Peaceful.â
His eyes find yours. âPeaceful,â he echoes, though the word seems to hold a different meaning when he says it.
You both stay there, unmoving, until eventually, he takes a step back, as if sensing that the tension between you needs a moment to cool. âIâll check on the barn,â he says gruffly. âMake sure everythingâs locked up for the night.â
âOkay,â you reply, your voice softer than you intended.
Logan leaves to check on the barn, while heâs gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils.Â
Finally, unable to stay inside any longer, you decide to step outside, hoping the cool evening air will help clear your mind. You sink down onto the old porch swing, and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you observe the darkened landscape.
A few minutes later, you hear the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and you glance over your shoulder to see Logan approaching the porch. He walks up the steps and pauses momentarily as if debating whether to join you. Then, with a soft sigh, he settles down beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.
Itâs now or never, you think. âWe have the place to ourselves now,â you state.Â
He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. âIndeed we do,â he replies.
The simple acknowledgmentâand the way he says itâmakes your pulse quicken, and you canât help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. Heâs always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way heâs respected your space, youâre done with tiptoeing around.
âDo I need to spell it out for you, orââ But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves.Â
His hand reaches out, rough and warm, to cup the back of your head. Your eyes widen, and your heart thuds in your chest upon realizing whatâs about to happen. And with a firm but gentle pull, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.
You lose track of your surroundingsâthe night, the farm, everythingâas you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. Itâs intense and claiming, a declaration of everything youâve both been too afraid to say.
His hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer until thereâs no space left between you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself in the moment, to make sure this is real, that heâs really here, kissing you.
Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing youâve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. Itâs something thatâs so uniquely himâso uniquely Loganâand you canât get enough. Youâve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of itâto the way he kisses you like youâre the only thing that matters.
When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Loganâs forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants. His eyes are smoldering and intense and his smirk is gone, replaced by a deep look of yearning.
âIâve wanted to do that for a long time,â he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isnât missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your puâ
âYouâre not the only one,â You whisper, interrupting your own thoughts. The connection between you has finally been acknowledged, and you feel a huge sense of relief.
He exhales a breath you didnât realize he was holding, and his hand slips from the back of your head to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. âGood,â he murmurs. âBecause I donât think I can hold back anymore.â
You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. âThen donât,â you whisper against his mouth.
The spark that has been ignited between you flares up into a full blown fire, and the next kiss quickly becomes more heated. Without breaking it, Loganâs grip on your waist tightens and you let out a soft gasp as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, and you can feel the beginning of something growing underneath you.Â
The sensation is dizzying, and you instinctively press yourself closer, your fingers curling into his hair. The swing beneath you creaks softly with the movement, but neither of you pays it any mind, too lost in each other to care.
You shift slightly on his lap, grinding your hips against him, and the movement draws a deep, throaty groan from him. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, âGod, you drive me crazy,â and then heâs on you again.Â
Itâs wild. Hot, and heavy, and utterly consuming. His hands move from your hips to grip your ass, guiding you to move against him. It feels so good, you release a relieved sigh into his mouth, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, too caught up in the pleasure.Â
The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core.Â
Biting your lip, you lift your head slightly, a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes dart toward the open door of the farmhouse. âYou know,â you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, âas much as Iâm enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.â
Loganâs lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. âAs you wish,â he murmurs.
As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that heâs already risen to his feet. Stepping closer, you slip your hand into his as you guide him toward the door. But just as you reach the threshold, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause, turning to look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.
âWe gotta go to your room,â you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.âI donât think Iâm ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.â
He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what youâre implying. âOh, is that so?â he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside.Â
By the time you reach his door, youâre practically vibrating with excitement, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room is simple, and the bed, neatly made, sits in the center of the room. You canât help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.
You turn to face Logan, but he doesnât give you time to say anything, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that is both tender and possessive. His thumb traces the line of your jaw as he cups your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.
But thereâs none. Youâve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that itâs taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him.Â
His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. âAre you sure about this?â he asks in between kisses.
âAbsolutely,â you mumble breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The word barely leaves your lips before Logan reacts, a low hum rumbling in his chest as if your answer has unleashed something primal within him.
He kicks the door shut behind him with a force that makes the room tremble slightly, and in the same fluid motion, he pins you against the wall, lips never leaving yours as his body cages you in.
One of his thighs nudges its way between yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction is maddening, electric, and it hits just right, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine that rips a moan from your throat.
The sound only spurs Logan on, his own need evident in the way he moves against you. He moves his mouth to your neck, trailing up and down it with hungrily. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his teeth graze your pulse point, causes you to arch against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.
You can feel the warmth of his breath as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, as his hands explore your body. Theyâre everywhereâone gripping your hip, holding you steady against the wall, the other sliding up your side to brush against the curve of your breast. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, and you lift your arms to help him, the fabric sliding up and over your head before itâs tossed carelessly to the floor.
Bringing his lips back to yours, the kiss is fiery, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs as he pushes you even harder into against the wall, his thigh still working its magic. You canât help the way your hips rock against him, the need for moreâmore pressure, more friction, more him.
Logan seems to sense your desperation, moaning when his hand slips down from your breast to the waistband of your jeans. He fumbles with the button for only a moment before he gets it open, his fingers slipping inside to brush against the soft skin of your lower belly. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze tempting and filled with a desire that matches your own.Â
âYouâre so damn beautiful,â he mutters, voice thick with want. âNo idea why I waited so long.â
You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, âDonât need to wait any longer.â
The words seem to be all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands careful as he helps you step out of them. Youâre left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way heâs staring at youâlike youâre the most beautiful thing heâs ever seenâmakes you feel powerful, desired in a way youâve never felt before.
He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yoursâbareâ and it drives you insane. His grip finds you thighs as he lifts you off the ground and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down gently on his bed, and breaks away long enough to strip off his own clothes. The sight of himâstrong, muscular, yoursâmakes your breath catch in your throat.Â
Thereâs a moment where heâs standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then heâs on you again in an instant, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his lips claiming yours and leaving you dizzy.
You lean up into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves against you. The need for more builds up to a breaking point, and you canât help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.
âLogan,â you breathe out. âPlease.â
His name on your lips seems to break the last of his control, a desperate groan ripping out of him. He begins travelling down your body, taking his time, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path, each kiss leaving a burning trail in its wake. His hands follow the curve of your waist, your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Your body is practically begging for him, and you know that youâre on the verge of begging too.
Once he makes it down to your thighs, he nudges them apart, giving him better access to you. He nips and bites at them, moaning along with you. And then, with a deep, almost possessive growl, he finally lowers his mouth to you, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You react immediately, a wave of pleasure coming over you, your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to pull him closer.
Loganâs hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. Youâre lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until itâs all you can think about, all you can feel. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire, and the only thing that matters is the way he is making you feel, the way heâs driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.
And then, just as you think you canât take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. âTell me what you want,â he commands.
You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, âYou. I wantâI need you.â
That seems to be wanted he wanted to hear, so with a final kiss to your inner thigh, he moves back up your body, connecting his lips to yours again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly to position himself at your entrance.
The anticipation is almost too much, the need for him so immense that you canât hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.
âOh god,â you moan. âI need you. Please.â
And then, finally, Logan gives you what youâve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely.Â
Everything seems to stop for a moment, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath between you, the only feeling the overwhelming pleasure of being joined together like this, of finally having what youâve both wanted for so long.
He pauses, lowering his head in the crook of your neck as he lets you adjust to the feeling, his breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. And then he begins to move, slow and steady at first, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the coil inside you tightening with every stroke. The feel of him inside you, the way he moves against you, is everything youâve been dreaming of and more, and you canât help the way your body responds to him, your hips lifting to meet his every movement.
The gentle, deliberate pace soon gives way to something more urgent, more desperate, as the need for release takes over. Each thrust drives you higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level, until teetering on the edge.
And then, he sends you over it. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it, your voice lost in the cry of pure ecstasy that escapes your lips. Logan follows you a moment later, his own release crashing into him hard, his body trembling against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as a loud, deep, groan reverberates in his throat.Â
Neither of you can move, lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, your bodies still entwined, as you come down from the high. He tightens his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tries to catch his breath. And when he does, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.
âYou okay?â he murmurs.Â
You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. âIâm more than okay,â you whisper back, voice full of emotion. âThat was⊠everything.â
A small smile tugs at the corners of Loganâs lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. âYeah, it was,â he agrees.
Eventually, he eases out of you with a tenderness that makes you sigh softly. He walks out into the washroom, and gets a warm towel, wiping you and himself down. After, he settles beside you on the bed, his arm draped over your waist, holding you close. The two of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each otherâs arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.
âGet some rest,â you hear, âWeâve got plenty of time⊠no need to rush.â
You nod sleepily, snuggling closer to him as you let your eyes drift shut, the steady pulse of his heart lulling you into a peaceful sleep.Â
â
You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Loganâs breathing against your ear, his arm still clinging possessively over your waist. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and a satisfied smile curves your lips as you snuggle closer to him.
But it isnât long before that peaceful contentment becomes something more. As you move around, the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, and the memory of the passion ignites a familiar heat low in your belly
He stirs beside you, his hand tightening around your waist as if sensing your thoughts. Pulling you closer, his nose nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there.Â
His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, âMorningâŠâ
The simple word, spoken in that deep, gravelly tone, is enough to make you ache for him all over again. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyesâdark and hungryâtells you that he feels the same way.Â
The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isnât a one-time thing. The connection between you is too strong, too consuming to be satisfied with just one night or even one morning. And as the day stretches out before you, the realization hits that this hunger, this need, will follow you both everywhere you go.
Throughout the week, the two of you are completely insatiable for each other. Itâs like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment youâre together becomes an opportunity.Â
It starts innocently enoughâjust a kiss in the barn when youâre supposed to be checking on the horses. But that kiss quickly spirals and before you know it, Logan has you pressed up against the wooden wall, his lips on your neck, his hands roaming your body. The scent of hay and leather mixes with the heady scent of him as he takes you right there, the barn filled with the sound of your moans and the creak of the old wooden beams.
Or when youâre in the back shed, ostensibly looking for some tools to finish up some chores, the moment the door closes behind you, and you both know thereâs no point in pretending. Loganâs hands are on you before you can even say a word, lifting you onto the workbench with ease as he claims your lips in a searing kiss.Â
At the pond too, the tranquil, secluded spot now holds an entirely different kind of allure to what it had before. One afternoon, you find yourselves there again, the cool water calling your name. But as you strip down to swim, the sight of him watching you is enough to make it seem less inviting than the feel of his hands on your skin. You pull him in with you, the rippling water doing nothing to muffle the sounds of your shared pleasure.
By the end of the week, youâre exhausted but in the best possible way, your body and soul both filled with the kind of satisfaction that comes from truly giving in to what you want, to who you are together. And as the sun sets on the final day of your week alone together, you find yourselves back in Loganâs room, the place where it all began.Â
The bed, once neat and tidy, is now a tangle of sheets and pillows, the evidence of your shared moments of bliss scattered around the room. Logan lies beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.
âThis week⊠itâs been more than I ever expected,â he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. âI donât want it to end.â
You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected thereâthe same desire to hold on to what youâve found together. âIt doesnât have to,â you reply. âWe donât have to go back to the way things were before.â
Loganâs hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. âNo, we donât,â he concurs.Â
â
The morning your grandparents arrive, you and Logan are in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Your grandmother is the first to step through the door, her face lighting up as she sees the two of you. âWeâre back!â she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.
You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. âHow was the trip?â
âOh, it was lovely,â she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. âThe cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.â
Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. âEverything go smoothly while we were gone?â he asks.
You blush. âYes, everything was fine.â
Then they do that thing theyâve been doing the whole time youâve been with them, where they exchange a glanceâand share a look that speaks volumes. Itâs the kind of look that only comes from years of understanding each other without words, and you can tell they knew exactly what they were doing when they left you and Logan alone for the week.Â
âWell, thatâs good to hear,â your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much theyâve guessed.
âSeems like you two managed just fine without us.â Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder.Â
You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. Itâs a way to tell you that heâs just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But thereâs no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.
â
The next month flies by, the routine of everything staying largely the same except for one thing. You and Logan are inseparable, drawn to each other like magnets, and with each passing day, it seems like that attraction only grows stronger.Â
Itâs not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesnât go ignored. Itâs the little moments that fill your daysâthe way his hand brushes yours as you walk side by side, the way he rests a gentle hand on the small of your back when youâre working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you donât need it).Â
The work on the farm continues to get done, but thereâs a new layer to everything you doâa sense of shared purpose, of partnership. And even though the days are long and tiring, you find yourself looking forward to each task, knowing that Logan will be there beside you, sharing the load, offering his quiet support and his easy, comforting presence.
As the sun begins to rise one breakfast, you grandfather announces that he needs to run into town to pick up some tools for a repair project. Heâs heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.
âLogan, why donât you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,â he suggests, his tone casual.
Your man agrees without hesitation, always ready to lend a hand. But as he follows your grandfather out the door, he pauses for just a moment, whirling back to look at you, and what you see on his face is insaneâthereâs a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. Itâs almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesnât want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town.Â
You have half a mind to join them.Â
The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after heâs turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesnât miss a thing. Once the men are in the truck and begin to drive off the property, she turns to you with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in amusment.Â
âHeâs really got it bad for you, doesnât he?â she says affectionately. âIâve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.â
Your heart blooms in your chest. âI guess he does,â you reply, your voice soft, breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you.Â
Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm âAnd youâve got it bad for him too, Iâd say.â
You laugh. âYeah, I do.â
â
Several weeks later, itâs raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasnât going to go to plan. Youâre sitting inside, curled up next to Logan on the old chesterfield, his arm wrapped around you as you both enjoy the warmth and quiet of the afternoon.Â
But then you decide to go through some emailsâjust a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Loganâs fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routineânewsletters, updates, the usual clutterâbut then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.
Itâs an email from the company you applied to months ago, the one you almost forgot about in the blissful haze of farm life. The subject line makes your heart skip a beat: Congratulations! Offer of Employment.
Your breath catches, and you sit up a little straighter, your heart pounding in your chest as you open the email. The words leap off the screen: We are pleased to offer you the position, starting in two months.
You stare at the email, a mixture of shock and elation washing over you. This is itâyour dream job, the opportunity youâve been working toward for years. Itâs everything youâve ever wanted, the kind of position that could set the course for your entire career. But as the initial wave of excitement begins to ebb, a heavy weight settles in your chest, pulling you back down to earth.
You glance over at Logan, whoâs still relaxed beside you. His eyes are closed, his head resting back against the couch. The sight of him, so content, makes your heart ache, because with this job offer comes a harsh reality: accepting it means leaving him, leaving this life youâve built together, at least for a while. And you donât know whenâor even ifâyouâll be back.
Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. âWhatâs wrong?â he asks.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. âI⊠I just got an email,â you begin shakily as you turn the screen toward him so he can read it for himself.
He takes the phone from your hand, his eyes scanning the email. You watch his expression carefully, searching for any sign of what heâs feeling. At first, thereâs no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see itâthe subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows.Â
He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.
Then, âThis is what youâve been waiting for.â His voice is steady, but thereâs a sadness there too, a heaviness that you canât ignore.
You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. âYeah⊠it is.â
Thereâs a long stretch of nothing, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence between you. Logan looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as if trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. âYou have to take it.â
You swallow hard. âBut what about us? I donât know when Iâll be back⊠or if Iâll even be able to come back.â
Loganâs hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. âWeâll figure it out,â he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way heâs trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. âYouâve worked too hard for this to pass it up.â
His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way heâs starting to close in on himself, as if already bracing himself for your departure. The thought of being apart from him is unbearable.
You lean into his touch, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. âI donât want to leave you,â you whisper as the tears finally spill over.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all the things he canât bring himself to say. âI donât want you to leave either,â he admits. âBut Iâll be here when you get back. However long it takes.â
And so begins the countdown to your departure. You always knew it was going to come, always knew you were going to have to leave your grandparents again, but you didnât expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.
â
The remaining two months become a bittersweet blend of cherished moments and a looming sense of inevitability. Each day feels both precious and fleeting, a constant reminder that your time together is running out, and it shapes every decision, every action, every word between you.Â
In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm lifeâearly mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each otherâs arms, exhausted but content. But now, thereâs a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time thatâs not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadnât quite as often before.Â
These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments youâve shared on the farmâtheyâre softer, more tender, as if youâre both trying to imprint each otherâs presence into your memories. You hold hands as you walk on the streets, your fingers intertwined, and every now and then, Logan will pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple or your lips, as if he needs to reassure himself that youâre still there with him.
Even the way you make love changes during these months. The hunger and desire that had once defined your physical relationship are still there, of courseâLoganâs touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as everâbut now, thereâs a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadnât been there before.Â
Your grandparents, upon hearing the news, immediately noticed the change too. While they were so extremely happy for your new job opportunity, they also knew what it meant. Theyâve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and thereâs a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together.Â
Itâs not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you.Â
They donât say much, but their understanding is palpable. They seem to give you more grace when it comes to doing work around the farm, trying to volunteer and do as much as they can so you two can spend time alone. No matter how much you refuse, they insist, pushing you two out the door with picnic basket and blankets.Â
Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Loganâs arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.
âYou know,â your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, âI see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.â
You smile, leaning into Loganâs side as you listen to her. âYou two have always been such an inspiration,â you say, meaning every word.
She chuckles, a wistful sound. âIt wasnât always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasnât sure if weâd make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now⊠I know youâll find a way.â
Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. âWeâll figure it out,â he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.
Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. âI believe you will. But just know⊠itâs okay to be sad, to be scared. Thatâs part of loving someone.â
The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. âThank you,â you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.
She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. âYouâll be alright, my dear. Both of you.â
The days continue to slip by, and as the final weeks approach, your chest constantly feels tight. You try to make yourself feel better by lying in each otherâs arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans youâll make when youâre together again. But still, itâs sad.Â
â
Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at duskâinevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is itâyour final day on the farm, your last full day with Logan before everything changes.
He is still asleep beside you, holding you close, his face peaceful in the early morning quiet. For a moment, you just watch him, memorizing the lines of his face, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his hair falls across his forehead. You want to remember everything, to carry this image of him with you when you leave.
With a soft sigh, you carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him. You pad quietly to the window, staring out at the familiar landscape that has become so dear to you. The fields, the barn, the trees swaying gently in the breezeâitâs all so beautiful, so full of memories.
You donât realize youâre crying until you feel the wetness on your cheeks, and you quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to start the day with sadness. But as you turn back to the bed, you see that Logan is awake, his eyes open and watching you. He doesnât say anything, but the look in his eyes says it allâhe knows what today means, and he feels it just as deeply as you do.
Wordlessly, you crawl back into bed, curling up against him, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, grounding you in the moment.
âMorning,â he murmurs.
âMorning,â you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as you press your face into his chest, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall..
You just lie there together, wrapped in each otherâs arms, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Eventually, Logan pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. âLetâs go to the pond,â he says delicately. âJust you and me.â
You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where youâve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so itâs only right that would spend your last day there, away from everything else, just the two of you.
You decide to walk to the pond. Loganâs hand is warm and solid in yours, and you hold on to it tightly, physically unable to tear yourself from his touch. And when you reach it, a fresh wave of emotion crashes over you.Â
You and Logan stand at the waterâs edge, just staring out into the pond. Then, you turn to him, your eyes filled with tears, and without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.
The kiss that follows is desperate, full of the need to feel connected, to hold on to each other for as long as you can. Itâs not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeksâthis is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the waterâs edge, Logan gently lays you down, his hands trembling slightly as he undresses you, tears stinging behind his eyelids. As he moves over you, his body pressing against yours, thereâs only this moment.Â
With his skin against yours, his breath on your neck, your bodies move together. Tears spill from your eyes as you hold him tight, your hands unable to stay still, running over every part of him you can touch, needing to feel him, to anchor yourself. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is deep, full of all the love, all the emotion that neither of you can put into words.Â
Itâs a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says Iâll wait for you.
After reaching the peak of pleasure, you cling to each other, the tears flowing freely now, a mix of sorrow and love and everything in between.
Logan holds you close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his eyes wet with tears. âI love you,â he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. âIâll always love you.â
âI love you too,â you choke out. âMore than anything.â
â
Driving away from the farm was probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your entire life. Harder than moving away for university, harder than securing your first full-time job, harder than living alone in a city where you knew no one. This was differentâthis was leaving behind a piece of your heart, a part of your soul that you knew would never be whole until you returned.
Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles white as you try to focus on the road ahead, but itâs impossible to shake the image thatâs burned into your mindâthe image of Logan and your grandparents standing on the porch as you drove away. The sight of them, standing there side by side, watching you leave, is something that will haunt you for a long time.Â
Logan, his stoic expression barely masking the pain in his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from running after you. Your grandmother, her face a mixture of sadness and pride, eyes glistening with unshed tears. And your grandfather, standing tall and strong, but with a heaviness in his gaze that spoke of understanding, of experience, of knowing just how hard this had to be.
The tears that had been threatening to fall finally break free, streaming down your face as you drive, blurring your vision and making it hard to see the road ahead. You swipe at them angrily, frustrated with yourself for breaking down like this, but itâs no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon youâre bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car.Â
You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.
â
The time apart is worse than you ever imagined it would be. In the beginning, you and Logan make every effort to stay in touch. The calls and texts are your lifeline, little threads that keep you connected to the farm, to him, to the life you left behind.Â
At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that youâre not alone, that heâs still there, waiting for you. He tells you about his days, about how he still rides the horses every morning, just like he used to when you were there.Â
But as time goes on, the time between each call grows. Your demanding work schedule, and the unreliable service in the countryside, make it harder and harder to find moments when youâre both free to talk. The texts, once long and filled with details about your lives, become shorter, more practical. You try to stay connected, but the distance feels like a growing chasm between you, one that neither of you can quite figure out how to bridge.
Years pass by in a blur. You have no time to spend at the farm, with it being too far away for just a weekend trip, and other commitments seem to always get in the way.Â
Then, one day, the call comesâthe call youâve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. Itâs your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away.Â
You take leave from work immediately, making arrangements to drive back to the farm and spend a night. The funeral is simple, attended by a few close friends and neighbours, but the absence of your grandfather is felt deeply by everyone.
And heâs there tooâLogan. Heâs standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, itâs as if no time has passed at all. You walk over to him, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go.Â
The few years apart, the pain of the distance, all of it melts away in that embrace. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him that youâve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall.Â
âIâm so sorry,â you whisper, everything hitting you at onceâthe loss of your grandfather, the years youâve spent apart, the life you could have had together.
He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. âI miss you,â he murmurs thickly. âEvery damn day, I miss you.â
You spend the rest of the day together, holding each other, talking, catching up, and remembering your grandfather. Logan tells you about the farm, about how heâs kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. Itâs clear that the farm hasnât been the same without you, just as your life hasnât been the same without him.
Later that evening, after the guests have left and the house has grown quiet, your grandmother pulls you aside. Her eyes are tired, full of sorrow, but thereâs a calm acceptance in her expression. âIâve made a decision,â she says softly, her voice steady. âIâm going to sell the farm.â
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. âNot to just anyone,â she adds quickly. âTo Logan. Heâs been more than just a farmhand, you know that. This place is as much his as it was ours. But⊠I need to move into permanent care. I canât manage on my own anymore.â
You nod, understanding but feeling a deep sadness all the same. The farm has been a part of your life for so long, and the thought of it changing hands, even to Logan, feels like another loss. But thereâs also a sense of relief, knowing that it will be in good hands, that it will stay in the family, in a way.
That night, youâre tangled in Loganâs arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.
â
Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. Youâve built a successful career, made some amazing friends, travelled the world, but the hustle and bustle of city life has taken its toll. The stress, the strain, the dissatisfactionâit begins to weigh on you more and more.Â
So, you make a decision.
You quit your job, find something remote, something that allows you to work from anywhere, as long as you can drive into the city every few weeks to drop off documents. Itâs a drastic change, but itâs one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life youâve been yearning for, isnât in the city.Â
Itâs back at the farm.
As you step out of your car, you see him. Heâs by the paddock, feeding the horses apples, just like he used to. His back is to you at first, but then he turns, and his eyes meet yours, and time stops.Â
Thereâs a lifetime of emotions in that lookâlove, longing, hope. Most of all, thereâs recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment youâve been waiting for all these years.
And when youâre finally standing in front of him again, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek the same way it did all those years ago.Â
----
#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett#logan howlett fic#logan x reader#x men#wolverine#deadpool movie#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett x reader#deadpool 3#hugh jackman#james logan howlett#logan howlett smut#wolverine angst#wolverine smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett#logan howlett angst#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fanfiction#logan wolverine#the wolverine#marvel#marvel fanfiction
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HELP
looking for a fic titled after a Megan Thee Stallion song!! it was Logan Howlett x Reader and i donât remember much other than Logan going to readers for dinner please help my tumblr refreshed and i lost it in the middle of reading the first little chunk!!
it seemed so good but i am awful at remembering fic titles and songs
#logan howlett#logan howlett smut#deadpool#deadpool and wolverine#dp&w#wolverine#wolverine smut#james logan howlett#james logan howlett smut#the wolverine#the wolverine smut
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â tooth and nail
alpha!logan x mutant!f!reader
rated e - 4k
tags: dub-con (logan goes into a rut), a/b/o-lite elements (logan-only - ruts/knots/mates), breeding kink, mutual pining, two jealous dummies, size kink, fighting as foreplay, return of The Claws (claw-play?), outercourse, biting, marking, come play, rough PiV sexÂ
a/n: pure pwp. reader has druidic-based mutant powers (wild shape, strong connection to nature/animals, influence over vines/foliage) and is from Earth-10005.
Logan knows this feeling. He thought heâd left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest.Â
Should have told you no. Should have locked himself away like he always did. Instead, heâs stuck, unable to keep his mind from wandering while his sparring partner - sweat-dewed and squirming - is pinned beneath him.Â
(Or - Loganâs rut begins at a most inopportune time)
Something wasnât right.
Itâs been settling under his skin for days now. Tiny hooked claws, digging into flesh. A syrupy urge low in his guts, his mind not quite his own.
He thought heâd left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest.Â
The world he lives in now is different. Thereâs humans, mutants, aliens. But none like him, answering to something innate that defined him in a way that didnât matter anymore.
Itâs been a while. Almost forgot how it felt, after years of tamping down this part of him. Should have recognized sooner what it was. This rippling, simmering irritation just beneath his skin, so much stronger than usual.Â
Should have locked himself away, when he realized his rut was returning.
In his years in his own Earth, the urge had lessened. Dulled by alcohol and grief. Managed by himself, in the few months this part of his nature did visit him.
But he hadnât been able to tell you no. Hadnât been able to resist, not when you smiled so prettily at him, practically begging him.Â
And the thought of you leaving him behind at the X-Mansion, while you went off without him - to spar with Hank, instead - made him want to rip McCoyâs arms off.Â
Desire swirls around him now, as he trades blows with you. Your arms snaking around his shoulders as you shoulder a well-placed hit, bringing you both down the floor.
Logan feels like a pup again, watching your breathless laugh. The clench of your thighs around his waist. The heady throb low in his guts, the pressure of his cock as it strains against his suit.Â
His hips lift, separating him from you. Trying to form an excuse, while his brain is rocketing into overdrive.
Fighting back the urge to close that gap again. To peel down those tight leggings that drive him mad, bury his mouth against your pussy and make you scream. Fuck you full of him, until heâs dripping out of you for days.Â
The though makes him growl, as he tries to concentrate.
Tough to fake an illness, or injury. Youâd see right through him.
Or even worse, worry.
So all he had to do was finish out this session.Â
Shouldnât be too hard.Â
If you can just avoid touching him⊠he might just make it through.Â
You know you shouldnât let yourself get distracted like this while sparring with Logan, but you canât seem to help it.
Not when youâve been nursing this thing inside you for months now. Something planted from another earth, settling low in your chest. Infesting like the vines that sprout from you, taking over until youâre fully ensnared.
Youâve tried to ignore it. Didnât want to ruin a good thing between you.Â
Out of everyone in the X-Mansion, you got along with Logan the best. Used to a solitary lifestyle after being raised among the druids, before you knew the truth to what you were, the mutant lineage that flowed through you.
It had paired well with his temperament. His anger and grouchy quips slipped from you like raindrops on a leaf. Something about spending time with you softening him at the edges - just a little bit.
He was still the hard man he used to be. Grizzled, with that scowl of his and the flecks of grey at his temples.
And despite your efforts - forgetting and moving on hadnât been successful. Not at all.Â
Because itâs impossible to ignore when heâs close, like this. Pressing your back to the mat, your wrist slammed against the padded floor. A knife skittering away, because even after all this time - even with his insisting - you were still reluctant to use it.
It sends your pulse racing. Heâs so fucking strong - and you think that maybe, even if you had been an equal pair, that youâd still throw these matches.Â
Let him win, if it gets him like this. Sweaty and pressed up against you as you struggle beneath him. A thigh jammed between yours to prevent you from slamming your heel into his calf.
Youâll think about this later.Â
You always do after your sparring sessions. You hand slipping between your thighs in the shower after. Bitten-back moans as you play out more in your mind - the plunge of your fingers inside your aching cunt until youâre shuddering with the pulsing pleasure, slumping back against the cold tile.Â
The fantasies always comes back to him.Â
You think that maybe Logan wants it too. Have felt his gaze on you when he thinks no one is looking, but your senses have always been keen. Animal attraction, perhaps. Pheromones. Something about his smell, his touch, beckons you - though you donât understand what it means.Â
And itâs only now that you realize heâs gone still above you. Eyes blown wide, a sharp breath of air inhaled through clenched teeth. A low growl, caught in his throat.Â
Holding himself back. You can see it - the way his muscles string tight. How his eyes dip, flicking over your face. Down to the part of your lips. The sweat that dews your chest.Â
Close enough that you can inhale him - the smell of leather and cigar smoke blending with more - something inside you giving them a name.Â
Want. Need.Â
It gives you courage.Â
You bridge the gap, for a just a moment. A shallow lift of your hips. Encouraging, the movement pushing your tits against his heaving chest.Â
âBad fucking idea, sweetheart.â He growls.
Itâs rough, low. Ground-out as if to himself, a wounded sound slipping from his throat.Â
His response has a mark forming between your eyebrows. A soft murmuring of his name.
Loganâs face dips, eyes closing as he inhales. Then, without warning, his knuckles cradle against your throat.Â
Wrist flexing as two of his claws spear forward on either side of your neck. Punching through the training mats and sinking deep into the concrete beneath.
Pinning you completely under him, your hips dropping as your free hand wraps around his forearm. A tug of fear ripples through you, but he doesnât budge.
âLogan,â You repeat, gasping, âWhat are you doing? Whatâs wrong?
This isnât like the times youâve sparred before. Heâs never drawn his claws. You donât heal like he does - you both know it. Never using more than a loose fist, an open palm in your sessions.Â
Heâs breathing heavy. Holding himself over you, his other hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist.Â
âIâm gonna let you go.â It comes out ragged, through clenched teeth.
âAnd then I need you to leave, and lock me in after.â Only now does he look at you - his dark eyes burning, âYou understand?â
His voice is so rough that it makes your skin prickle. Heat licking down your spine, stoking the embers that have settled low in your belly.Â
âI donât.â It comes out hushed.
How can you? Itâs like a flip has been switched, in those few moments. Did you truly misread everything?Â
His eyes havenât left your face. There a peek of his tongue against his lips, the words coming slowly, âDonât wanna do something youâre gonna regret.â
And for a moment, time stands still. An ache in your chest thatâs so different than the one between your thighs. Finger unfurling, reaching.
Slipping up his arm, touching his cheek. He flinches, eyes fluttering shut as he holds his breath.Â
âWhat could I regret with you?â
If it were anyone else, the question would be stupid. You should be running from the man that has you pinned to the ground, claws drawn. Another twitch and you could be dead - the middle unsheathing to pierce clean through your soft throat.
âWhatever it is, let me help you.â Your voice is gentle - coaxing -Â and for a second, he leans into the touch. Palm pressing against heated skin, and you gasp, âYouâre burning up, Logan.â
âYou canât help me with this.â He rasps with his eyes closed, voice strained.Â
Your head shakes, âLet me try.â
A long pause lingers. The room filled with the uneven intake of breath. Loganâs words coming slowly, as his eyes open - dropping down to your throat. And then away, like he canât bear to even look at you, âDoes the word rut mean anything to you?â
It feels like something stirs again inside you. The flutter of wings, not unlike the feeling when you tap into your power. Like threads slipping your fingertips, connecting you down to the earth below.Â
âAnimals have ruts. Deer, elk, creatures like that.â A beat, as you begin to understand. Heat flaring in your cheeks at the implication, âBut, not⊠not humans.â
He grunts, shifting.
It takes everything not to let your chin tip down, to look.Â
âThey do where I come from.âÂ
Pieces start to fall in place. His increased irritability around you lately. Territorial. Aggressive.Â
Blending in to what you know, in your connection to nature. Those animalistic instincts that linger in your blood long after youâve shed your beast form.Â
Desire. Mating. An urge to breed.Â
Oh, fuck.Â
You squirm and he makes a warning sound without thinking - a rough rumble from his chest. His weight shifting on top of you, still hovering.
âHow do you handle it?âÂ
His eyes flicker up to yours, then away again. Jaw working, a breath before he answers, âTake care of it myself. Or, Iâd find someone to work through it with me.â
Even as youâre scrambling to make sense of it, you understand his insinuation. It stuns you into silence. You cannot allow that. The thought sends your heart crashing into your guts.Â
Your chin tips up, defiantly.
âLet me help you.âÂ
Those dark eyes narrow as they snap to your face. Your words softening, as your thumb sweeps across his skin, the scruff of his cheek.
âI want to help you.â
Logan laughs, the sound ragged. Showing the points of his canines with the shake of his head.Â
âYou donât know what youâre asking.â His voice is smoky-low. Rough as it scrapes across your skin, leaving goosebumps, âYou couldnât take me.â
Your heart feels like itâs pounding in your throat. Heat licking down your spine, and surely he can feel it - the flutter beneath the press of his knuckles.Â
âI can.â It comes out breathy. Insisting.Â
His tongue brushes over his lips as they part. A tilt of his head as he lowers himself. His knee pressing against the meat of your thigh, nudging. Opening your legs up further. Spreading them wider.Â
âI will ruin you.âÂ
Itâs growled in your ear. Each word coming slowly, as he lets the hard curve of his cock grind against your core. His meaning unmistakable, his voice pitching down with a ragged groan.Â
âI want you to ruin you. You understand?â
And, you do. It floods through you, sending your nerve endings alight. Imagining how he would handle you, take you. The space between your thighs throbs.Â
His admission - the rasp of his words and the heavy nudge of him against you makes you do something very selfish.Â
And very stupid.Â
Youâre just able to reach your thigh holster now, with this new angle. The quick fumble of your fingers to loosen the small dagger.
The metal side of his claw pressing into your skin as your head turns. Before he can move, a flick of your wrist sends it through the air.
Your aim is slightly off, but it does the job. Seating itself in the control box by the door, a sizzle as the wires are cut.
A metallic snick as the doors lock. The lights click off, plunging the room into darkness. The ground bathed only with the stripes of sun that stretch across the floor from the row of window along the wall.
Logan lets go of your wrist, but leaves you pinned. His fist curling in the strap of your tank, knuckles pressing against your throat as he yanks you forward.
âWhy the fuck would you do that?â Logan snarls, âYou want me to use you?â
His words make you whimper. A soft little whine that has his hips dropping further. An unconscious rut against your core, leg muscles flexing as you clench around nothing.Â
You meet his second thrust, your body curving against his. Head tipping back as the seam of your leggings nudge against your clit.
âFuck.â It almost sounds awed now, his words soft and slow, âYou do, donât you?â
Letting his full weight drop, as your hands grip onto his shoulders for purchase. You had thought you were pinned before, but he had still been using his knees, his elbows. Hovering, in an attempt to keep control.
Now, you can feel all of him, as his body maps against yours. Pulling a rough groan as his hips flex, grinding himself slowly against your core.Â
âLogan, please.â
He growls. Fingers unfurling from your shirt. Ghosting down your side to fit against the curve of your hip. Biting into flesh with a bruising force, as his face buried in the crook of your neck. A hot exhale against your skin, as he pants - finding a rocking rhythm, as his body curls around yours.Â
You can feel the way his muscles tense with each needy snap of his hips. The way each breath pitches into a near-silent whine, as he seeks friction.Â
Itâs not enough, as much as he wishes it was.
âI need-â Logan rasps, âTell me to stop and I will.â
The hand on your hip snakes between you. Roughly tugging on the belt of his suit, until the clasp opens. All while murmuring assurances, half to himself.
âIâll let you go. Work through it myself-â
That need he speaks of rolls off him in waves. Facial hair scraping against your cheek. The brush of his lips against your throat, just above the cool press of his claws.
âDonât stop.â Itâs easy to answer. Easy to lean into what he offers you, all those sweet promises wrapped in steel.Â
The groan he makes is filthy, âGive me your hand.â
Your fingers unlatch from the vice-like hold on his suit. A broad hand wrapping around your wrist, as he tugs you where he needs you. The tips brushing heated skin, making you gasp.Â
âMake a fist,â He rasps, âFuck, thatâs it.â
Lining himself up, pushing his bared cock into the circled grip of your fingers. Using you like a cheap imitation of what he craves, as his desire leaks from him. Slicking up your fingers, with each roll of his hips.Â
Heâs heavy in your hand. You can feel how your fingers stretch - flexing, opening, with each forward thrust. Barely able to circle around, fingers splitting when you reach his base.Â
You canât help but move with him. Hips rocking up, to match his messy rhythm. The knuckle of your thumb pressing against your seam, nudging at where you ache for him.
âI can smell you, sweetheart,â Logan moans, his nose dragging along the curve of your jaw. Lips parting so he can test his teeth against a spot under your ear, the pressure making you shiver, âYour pussyâs leaking, thinking about me.â
Your eyes flutter shut, as you whine. Squeezing his cock a little more tightly, wishing it was filling you instead just your fingers.Â
âIâm right, arenât I?â He husks, âYou think you can take it?â
You want anything heâll give you. And anything is better than the way heâs teasing you. Palm slick with his desire, your own soaking through the soft fabric of your leggings.
âI want it. Want your cock,â You breathe, âWant to fuck me, please-â
Thereâs a final jerk of his hips against you, his voice gruff as his thighs shift.
âStay still then, sweetheart.â
Thereâs the sharp rasp of adamantium against stone as they withdraw from the floor. His knuckles easing carefully from your throat as he leans back. Eyes dropping down, considering.
Barely a heartbeat before thereâs the kiss of metal against skin, as the edge of a claw hooks under your shirt. Your breath held as it slips up, between your breasts.Â
A tug, and the fabric is shredding. Fibers splitting until the drag of the sharp tips, from belly to throat. Baring you, the air in the open room chilling your heated skin as you gasp.
Nipples already pebbled as his mouth descends. A needy moan loosening when he kisses at the curve of your tits, his tongue flattening across a tight peak.Â
Your arms wrap around him, their duty forgotten. Distracting you as his claws shift down. Your breath catches, but then thereâs the sound of them sheathing - slipping back under his skin.Â
His hands finding the slice he made in the waistband, making short work of the rest himself. Ripping your leggings open - dragging your thighs over his as he leans back on his knees.Â
And looking down, itâs only now that you can fully see him. The familiar, worn yellow suit that shows off how broad he is. Zipper yanked down at the crotch, his cock pulled through with his impatience.
Eyes widening, when you realize thereâs more to him than you though. Hanging heavy between his thighs, pretty and flushed. A thickened bulge sitting where your fingers had split - what you had mistaken for his base.Â
âNeed to be inside you, sweetheart,â Loganâs hand already wrapping around his shaft, dragging the tip across your cunt, âDonât make me waste a drop, alright?â
Fingers tugging the gusset of your panties to the side. Letting the tip slap against your clit. It glides against you, slipping against your combined arousal. Seeing how you flutter as you clench, your own need spiking.
âLogan,â You beg, âStop teasing, please-â
He makes a rough sound. Almost a laugh, if it didnât sound so pained.Â
âJust listen to you. Begging like youâre in heat,â He grunts, âDonât worry, Iâll give you what you need.â
The tip dips down, nudging at your entrance. Lining himself up, before his hips drive him forward. The sudden pressure chokes you - a bitten-back cry as your muscles string tight, thighs clamping down around his waist.
âFuck, Iâve dreamed about this.â He growls. Spearing into you an inch at time with a long, fluid motion. Fingers biting into your thigh, holding you open as your own scrabble against the mat - searching for something to hold onto.
âTugging down those leggings. Fucking you into the floor.â
You can barely contain the whine. Brow furrowed, as he splits you open. Your pussy making room for him until the swollen ring at his base cradles your entrance.Â
Only able to inhale a short breath before heâs moving. Hands catching your legs, slipping to the joints of your knees where they press into his ribs.
Pushing your thighs back towards your chest, opening you up further, as his cock drags along your walls. He feels deeper, bigger - groaning at the way you clench so tightly around him.
Better than any of those daydreams, as he leans into you. Chasing that animalistic urge inside to bury himself fully in you, ensuring that youâll take every drop.
Your fingers bite into his wrists. The breath pushed from you with each thrust, feeling like heâs deep in your belly, as that swell stretches at your opening.
âThought about it too,â You admit with a gasp, as that heat inside you burns, âWanted you, like this.â
âYeah? I bet you did.â He grunts, as his thighs snap against your ass. Leaning over you now, eyes fixed on yours. Close enough that you can see the glaze to them, lost in his need for release.Â
Before his eyes drag down. Seeing where youâre stretched around him. Another shallow nudge, urging himself deeper. His thumb pressing at your entrance, before slipping back to hook around the swell.
âGood girl like youâd take my knot too, wouldnât you?â
His knot. Your head shakes. He barely fits at is. You can feel every ridge as he ruts into you, every thick vein, âI donât think- Logan, that wonât fit-â
The thumb shifts up. Pleasure burning through as he rolls the pad across you clit. His brow pulled in concentration, but thereâs a flesh of white teeth.
âSure it will, baby.â Itâs slick, how he touches you. His cock grinding again and again against a spot that steals your breath, âYou were made to take it. Weâll make it fit.â
It makes you moan. Your fingers sliding into his hair tugging at him. He comes willingly, a soft sound as his mouth dips to press against yours. Turning hungry as your lips part. Rubbing at you as his tongue strokes against yours, deepening the kiss.Â
The pleasure licks in your veins, a molten feeling building in your core.Â
A rough murmur against your lips, âTell me you want it. Iâll make you feel good, sweetheart.â
You parrot it back to him without thinking, hips chasing the press of his thumb.Â
âI want it,â You keen, âYour k-knot.â
Willing to do just about anything he asks if he keeps touching you like this. If he keeps rutting against the spot that makes your arousal leak around his cock, each drive of his hips loud and messy in the quiet room.Â
He groans, the hand at your thigh pinching, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. The fingers at your clit slipping up to splay across your abdomen, his palm hot again your skin.Â
âYeah?â Logan husks - pressing down, almost as if he can feel himself buried inside you, âFuck, youâd look so good filled with my pups.â
His rhythm going sloppy, as a hand slips up to palm at your breasts, âThese pretty tits nice and round. Wouldnât be able to keep my hands off you, baby.â
Some of his words are new to you, but your body still reacts to his tone. The need, the longing. An intrinsic understanding of what he wants, even if itâs impossible with your implant. It still doesnât stop your hand from slipping down to replace his.
Of pretending, with him.Â
The circles practiced, leaving him to concentrate on his own end. Soft panting cries pulling from you as the pounding of his hips drags you closer.Â
Heâs close, as well. Those sharp thrusts growing shallow, messy. Letting go of your thighs, letting them wrap around his waist as he drives you into the padded mats. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your jaw. Tongue dipping out to drag against a spot on your neck that makes you go slack in his arms.Â
âShould mate you,â He rasps. Teeth pinching down, where his tongue just was, âBite you right here. Make you mine.â
The words tip you over the edge. A ragged gasp as your pussy clamps down around him, blood thundering in your ears. Nails catching on the panels of his suit as you cling to him, moans ripped from your throat as you pulse around him in time with your thudding heartbeat.
Thereâs no sharp bite of teeth. Just a muffled groan against your skin as he grasps at your hips. The sharp feeling of pressure increasing, as something thick works its way inside you. You keen as it stretches you, swelling so he canât withdraw.Â
Twin ragged moans, as youâre joined together.Â
He comes with you squirming on his knot, his lips pressed against your throat. Sweet nothings murmured - âsqueezing me so fucking tight, babyâ, âgonna need you to take every drop, atta girlâ - his cock throbbing as he spills inside you, pumping you full.
Still grinding into you. It draws your own orgasm out, with the way heâs rubbing against your walls, nothing left untouched. Overstimulation flickering at the corner of your mind, but youâre locked in place as he breeds you.Â
Understanding what he meant by using you - you feel it now. Fucked out and boneless and it sends another gush of sticky need between your thighs.Â
The sharp, panting breath starts to ebb. The ghost of his teeth becomes the nuzzle of his face, that strung-tight pull of his muscles turning liquid as he relaxes into your embrace.Â
âWhy were you so worried?â
It comes out hushed, in the now-silent room. Youâre sore - will be, tomorrow. Pleasure-drunk certainly, but not quite as ruined as he promised.Â
Almost to your disappointment.Â
âThat wasnât too much.â
Logan laughs, the sound dripping with condescension. A flex of his hips, still knotted inside you. Cum leaking from your swollen pussy, smearing against your inner thighs.
âOh, sweetheart.â He coos, âRuts can last for days.â
His fingers drop, dragging through his spend. Finding your clit again, rubbing slick circles against the tight little bud.Â
Intent on doing this one himself.Â
âWeâre only just getting started.â
[moodboard] // I had two ideas for his claws after the movie - this was the second one! This is my first time writing something like this, so keeping it a little light with the dynamics đ thanks for reading!
and speaking of - I have to link this amazing alpha!logan thot by the incredible @avocado-writing! please check it out! đ
#do NOT look at me#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett x you#wolverine smut#james logan howlett x reader#xmen x reader#logan howlett x f!reader#logan howlett x fem!reader
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à©âĄËł imagine you're wearing logans dog tags as you ride him. 18+
you're rolling your hips on him, riding him just how he wants. his firm, calloused hands grip your hips with purpose, digging into your flesh so hard it will surely leave bruises. he wants to leave bruises, evidence of how much he wants you, needs you. growling like a fucking animal as his cock slides in and out of you with ease, each slap of his hips connecting with yours earning soft moans from your lips and rough grunts from his.
he loves staring into your eyes while he fucks you, watching those pretty eyes of yours roll back into your skull - but not tonight. tonight he can't help but be mesmerised by the way his dog tags around your neck bounce each time he thrusts. the soft jingling of the metal fills his ears, adding to the sounds of skin on skin and ragged gasps.
fuck, they looked so good on you. his rough fingers trail across your lower stomach, snaking their way to the tags. the metal around your neck, a sign that he owned you, watching the metal coined with his name slap against your soft skin rhythmically.
"that's it," he yanks the chain suddenly, causing you to gasp and place your hands on his fuzzy chest to steady yourself, "atta'girl. . ." logan coos, as he pumps up into you, meeting your every movement. by now, he knows your wet hole is just aching to be filled. it started aching the moment you crawled into bed beside him.
every. single. night.
and you're his, you know you're his, you've given yourself completely to him. your hand grips around his on the tags as if solidifying this, silently granting him ownership.
logan grins, feeling his cock twitch inside you.
you looked so pretty with his name around your neck.
#a little drabble#my writing#wolverine x reader#deadpool x reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett x f!reader#wolverine smut#logan howlett x you#logan howlett smut#wolverine fanfiction#the wolverine#wolverine#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett#deadpool#deadpool and wolverine#james howlett#deadpool 3#deadpool movie#james logan howlett#x men#xmen fanfiction#x men movies#marvel x reader#marvel#mcu#marvel cinematic universe#marvel comics#marvel mcu
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Practice [L.H]
pairing: Logan Howlett x reader
summary: Your roommate Logan lets you practise giving a blowjob on him for your date with another guy.
warnings: smut, 18+, oral sex (f&m receiving, readerâs first time), Logan is a liittle mean but just a little and he gets softer towards the end, spitting, jerking off, Logan keeps his socks on I think itâs hot okay đđ, Logan calls reader bub, baby, good girl, pretty girl; Wade is mentioned but Iâm imagining a younger Logan than in DP&W
word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a drabble lol idk what happened)
âWhoâs the lucky guy?â Logan asks from the sofa as you walk past him in your pretty date outfit. Youâve got some time left before your date but you decided to get ready early in a bout of nervousness.
âThis guy Iâve been seeing,â you tell him, trying to seem nonchalant. You havenât yet mentioned to Logan that youâve been on a few dates. He spends a lot of time in his room, away from you and Wade, and he just never happened to be there to hear about your dates.
Logan mutes the tv. âWhat guy?â
âMet him online.â
âAnd heâs so good to you that you get this pretty for him?â
You smile at his indirect compliment and sit down next to him.
âYeah, heâs nice. I⊠I think we might go a step further today,â you feel your cheeks heating up, âIâm kind of nervous.â
You see his jaw clench slightly, âIf heâs a good guy he shouldnât make you nervous.â
âIâm not nervous because of him, itâs just that it would be my first time. And I donât want to be bad.â
He chuckles and leans back, âYou wonât be bad. Just make him go on top.â
Logan isnât taking your hint, so you take a deep breath to gather your courage. âWhat if he wants me to go down on him and I donât know how to do it? Will youâŠâ your voice falters as his eyes meet yours.
âWill you help me?â you stutter and Logan immediately begins to smirk. Embarrassment spreads through your body.
âHelp you how?â He asks, smug.
Itâs too late to go back now. âWell, I donât know. Like, explain how it works or.. you could show me?â you shrug.
âYou probably know better than me how to find porn online.â
âNo, I mean show me on you.â Thatâs all the courage you can muster for the day and you wonder if you will even have the strength to look back into Loganâs eyes. He solves that problem for you, putting a finger under your chin and pushing it up so youâre looking at him.
âYou wanna suck my cock?â He sounds annoyed and you immediately want to die.
âIt wouldnât have to mean anything,â you look at his cheeks, his nose, anywhere but his eyes, âI just wanna know if Iâm doing it right. Itâs okay if you canât cum, I just want to practise.â
Logan scans your face for a sign of discomfort â other than your embarrassment â but he doesnât find any. His features soften, âYou really wanna go down on me, bub?â
You nod quickly, âFor practice.â
âMhm, for practice.â Heâs mocking you, but all you can do is ignore it.
A thrill shoots through your body at his next words: âCâmere then.â He spreads his legs, clothed in jeans that strain around the thickness of his delicious thighs. You can see the outline of his abs through his tank top. You canât believe this is happening â youâve had a crush on him since you saw him for the first time.
Logan beckons you between his legs and you move to sit on the carpet, its fluffiness stopping your bare knees from hurting. Your short skirt rides up your ass and you pull it down self-consciously despite what youâre about to do.
âYou sure about this, bub?â Logan asks again from above you. You gulp when you look up at him. How does he look even better from below?
âYeah,â you assure him, your panties already growing wet. You sit down and try to patiently wait for instruction but you end up squirming. When you look back up at Logan heâs got one of his eyebrows raised.
âYou donât know how to open a belt either?â
âWell, yeah but donât we have toââ your mouth starts to water when the rough clink of his belt interrupts you. Heâs all but ripping open his belt; he unbuttons his jeans and takes out his hard cock. You almost get goosebumps.
âOh,â you say.
âIf a guy likes you, he doesnât need any time to get ready. Foreplay is just to get the woman nice and wet,â Logan tells you, although youâre barely listening. All you know is that you wouldnât need the foreplay either, youâre uncomfortably wet, trying to get friction against your legs that are folded underneath you.
Logan watches you stare at his erection, âTake your top off. I like seeing your pretty face but thatâll make it an even nicer view.â
âBut Iâm not wearing anything underneath,â you thumb at the thin straps of your top.
He smirks, âeven better.â He reaches down to pull the top up by your waist but then hesitates.
You nod but Logan rolls his eyes. âUse your words.â
âYou can take it off,â you say but you nevertheless put your arms in front of your tits when he pulls your top over your head.Â
Logan chuckles, âBaby, Iâve been dying to see your tits since I first met you. You really think you gotta hide?â The nickname makes you melt and your arms immediately drop to your sides.Â
You sit up straighter as Logan lets out a low moan, âGod, look at you. So fucking perfect.â He reaches out to grope your tits almost clumsily. His cock bobs in front of you as he leans down to touch you and you feel yourself getting addicted to him already. You just want to start.
With a last rough squeeze of your tit, Logan leans back. âWet your lips,â he instructs. You lick your lips.
âWetter,â he says, and your eyebrows crease in confusion as you lick your lips again.
Logan huffs, spits into his hand, and smears his spit over your mouth, âThere. Donât you look fucking pretty like this.â You just about purr against his hand and then push against it with your cheek.
You place your hands on either of his knees and lean in to kiss the tip of his cock, all swollen and ready. You immediately feel the urge to go further but your shyness takes over, so you keep pressing wet kisses to his length.
âGod,â Logan groans, leaning his head back in pleasure as you keep kissing, and you start to use some more spit.
âLook at you, donât even need me to tell you what to do,â he pulls his arms behind his head smugly, like an asshole, and you smile, getting shy again. You kiss along the underside of his cock some more, getting more desperate with every second.
âWhat now?â You ask.Â
Logan softly smiles at you for a second, pulling his jeans and boxers further down his thighs. You pull them off completely as he pulls off his top. Heâs naked in front of you now, except for his socks, and you take a second to appreciate all the broadness and his muscles. The hair from his chest all the way over his abs and down to his cock is begging for you to kiss every inch of it but you force yourself to focus.
Logan takes his cock in his hand to lift it out of the way, and slowly starts to jerk off. His eyes go to you and then to his balls, and you get what he wants you to do. Still, he gives you one word: âLick.â
You move forward, inhaling all his manly smell, instinctively going to press another wet kiss to his cock. You let spit pool in your mouth and begin to lick all over his balls, feeling the heaviness of them on your tongue.
âTake as much as you can, baby,â he rasps, continuing to jerk off. You almost slap his hand away â you want to be the one making him feel good â but you stop yourself.
You do as he tells you, opening your mouth to cover as much of him as you can, the warmth of his balls against your tongue making you drool.
âYeah, baby, juuust like that. Thatâs a good girl,â he breathes heavily.
Your pussy clenches around nothing at his words, and you have to take a deep breath to focus on anything but the wet ache between your thighs.
His balls move against your tongue from his jerking off, and you gently suck on the skin, moving around a few inches every few seconds. But the movement from his hand on his cock is becoming distracting and, without thinking, you instinctively push his hand away.Â
He stills and then smiles, lifting his hand away. He lightly leans his elbows on the back of the sofa to the sides of him.Â
âYou can start sucking my cock now if youâre ready, baby. Been doing such a good job.â
âI donât know if I can take all of it,â you pout. Even just imagining his dick down your throat feels too much, though not in a bad way. Heâs just so fucking big.Â
âJust take as much as you can. I bet you can take more of me than you think.â
His words motivate you. You go up slightly on your knees, carefully wrapping your hand around his cock. You spit on it, letting it slowly slide down the sides as you begin to spread it with your hand.Â
Logan huffs out a laugh from above you, âSo adorable. You donât need to be so careful. Here, do it like this.â He wraps his much bigger hand around yours and he starts to jerk off with your hand, showing you how rough you can be as he starts to fuck your fist.Â
You clear your throat, âCan I use my mouth now?â
He bites his lip, âReady when you are, baby. Just breathe through your nose and relax.â Oh, youâre relaxed. Being between Loganâs meaty thighs is the best youâve felt in your life.Â
You press another kiss to the tip of his cock and part your lips to take him in your mouth. The first second you feel the heaviness of his cock on your tongue is like heaven. Logan lets out a low moan and you look up to find his eyes already on your face. He looks like a god from below, his muscles starting to glisten with a thin layer of sweat.
Opening your mouth wider, you take more of him. You start to jerk him off where your mouth canât reach but you do your best to go as deep as you can, moving up and down with your wet mouth.
The feeling of Loganâs cock in your mouth is addicting, and the quiet sounds he is making even more so.Â
âDoinâ so good for me, baby,â he whispers, voice weak. You look up into his eyes as you suck his dick, spit starting to run down your hand, and a smirk spreads on Loganâs face.
âSuch a pretty girl,â he leans his head back.
Your jaw is starting to strain because heâs so big but you never want to stop doing this. You swallow down the taste of his precum and canât wait to actually make him come. Heâs starting to pulse in your mouth, abs contracting with every time your tongue moves.
Youâre wondering how much longâ
âYâgonna make me come, baby. Gonna come so hard,â Logan moans, and you figure heâs warning you but you want nothing more than his cum in your mouth.
You put in all the effort you can, sucking Loganâs cock further down your throat, cheeks hollowing. You start to feel him at the back of your throat, spit spilling from your lips.
Logan groans, and then heâs filling up your mouth, pumping his cum down your throat as you eagerly swallow. You look up at him through your lashes, taking in his face, his eyes shut and mouth hanging open in pleasure as a long, almost pathetic, groan comes out.
Heâs coming longer than youâd expect, coming in your mouth in sticky ropes, a hand guiding the back of your head. You still pout when heâs finally drained and he slowly pulls his hips back.
Logan sighs a last breath of pleasure and holds his hand in front of your mouth. âWhat?â you ask.
âSpit.â
âUh, I swallowed,â you say.
âReally?â
You stick out your tongue for Logan to see your empty mouth.
He smirks. âGod,â he huffs, âso fucking perfect. Câmere.â He pulls you up to the sofa and sits you on his lap, your bare chest against his. Logan pushes his mouth against yours, kissing you like heâs filled with a new desire, as if you didnât just make him come.
You donât get to kiss him for very long though, because he pulls you to lie down on the sofa, turning so your legs are spread around him.
ââm gonna show you what itâs supposed to feel like for someone to eat your pussy. Just so you know your date is doinâ it right, âkay?â
What date? You almost ask. You remember for a second but then, looking at him, all of your thoughts are replaced with Logan again. âYes,â you nod hornily, âPlease.â
âThere you go, got you even saying please now. You want it that bad, huh?â
All you can do is nod as he pulls down your skirt and panties. He almost goes cross-eyed when he sees your pussy for the first time.
âGod, baby, you coulda said something. Such an eager little thing. You got that wet from having my cock in your mouth, hm? Gonna make you come so good, yeah?â
You nod again and he bends down to press another sloppy kiss to your lips, kissing down your neck and stopping at your chest, âCanât get enough of these,â he plays with your tits, desperately grabbing at them like a man seeing a woman naked for the first time.
He smiles up at you when he realises how much time heâs spent at your chest, pressing a last kiss to your sternum before placing one of his big hands on your tit and kissing further down. You assume heâs going to stop before he gets to your pussy, just to tease you, but he kisses all the way down from your belly button to your clit, starting to make out with your pussy.
âLogan,â you moan, your hand flying to his hand on one of your boobs.
âFeel good?â He asks, and you almost faint when you look at his head pushed between your thighs. He looks exactly right, as if this is where he was meant to be the entire time.
âMhmm.â
He chuckles against your pussy, tongue darting out to play with your clit. The ache between your legs starts to get worse with him there, and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing.
Logan smirks and pushes your thighs further apart with a rough hand. He starts to gently rub your clit, and youâve finally got the friction youâve been needing this entire time. Youâre already close.Â
You let out an involuntary moan as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you, and you grip his hand on your tit harder, and he squeezes you there, lovingly.Â
âI got you, baby,â he says into your pussy before starting to fuck you with his finger, pushing another one in as he begins to rub a sweet little spot inside that you can never reach yourself.Â
He leans in to start licking your clit again, circling it with his tongue and, ever so slightly, beginning to suck.Â
Youâre so close, the waves of pleasure almost, just almost, flooding over you. You squirm, your knees pushing together, held open by his broad shoulders.Â
Logan sucks harder, fingers fucking into you with your clit pulsing against his tongue.Â
It only takes a few more seconds of Loganâs mouth on your pussy for you to come. Pleasure explodes within you and floods your entire body as you arch your back, pushing further into him and his wet mouth and thick fingers.
Logan doesnât stop until youâre satisfied and your legs go numb around him.
He grins at you, biting his lip to stop his smile from spreading too far, and he presses a kiss to the middle of your belly, squeezing your tit gently before letting go. You feel cold without him there.
With your legs still around him, you instinctively pull him in and he lies down next to you on the sofa, gently caging you against the back of it to give you the more comfortable side as he balances on the edge.
âYou wanna know how good you taste?â Logan asks, not waiting for an answer before he kisses you. You slide your hand behind his neck to pull him in, tasting yourself on his tongue.
He stops kissing you. âSo.. you still going on your date?â
You feel your cheeks getting hot, âWhat if I told youuuâŠâ you twirl a strand of Loganâs hair thatâs hanging over his forehead, âthat there never was a date. Or a guy.â
Logan breaks out in a smile, âYou were too shy to ask me to fuck you so you made up an entire person?â
You hear the key turning in the lock in that moment, and even though youâll be covered by the back of the sofa Logan shields you with his hands as best as he can, reaching for your clothes.
Wade comes in and you immediately sit up, holding Loganâs hand and forearm to your tits to cover them.
âGuess what happened?â you squeal at Wade.
Wadeâs eyes go over to you and then to Logan, and he drops his bags of grocery shopping to jump up and down, âWas it my plan? I told you my plan would work!â
You grin, âIt was your plan.â
Logan looks between you and Wade, rolling his eyes but heâs unable to hide a smile.
âIt was a good plan, right? I told her she could just ask you out but she was too shy so I told her to make up a guy sheâs dating,â Wade explains.
âAlright,â Logan laughs quietly, âNow fuck off so I can fuck my girl again.â
Wadeâs eyes go wide and he says what youâre thinking, âMy girl? Iâd faint if he called me that. You owe me,â he points at you.
You blow a kiss at Wade and he pretends to catch it, pressing it to his lap. You roll your eyes and smile, waving at him, âYou heard him, weâve got stuff to do.â
The almost animalistic smirk Logan gives you when Wade is gone should scare you, but it only makes you want him more. He picks you up in his arms, carrying you to his room. You canât wait for whatâs to come.
-
P.S. Logan thinks good girls reblog and comment on the fics they enjoy đ©·đ«Ł
#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine smut#james logan howlett#logan howlett x you#wolverine x you#james logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#fem!reader#selfcarecap
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