#logan howlett fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mcrdvcks · 18 hours ago

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i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ science, baby!

chapter summary: You and Logan begin to try for a baby.

word count: 7.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: hope y'all enjoy this one, it's a mostly cute fluffy chapter :)

also, didn't mean to post so late, i was up late last night writing the peter lyman fanfic😭(it'll hopefully be out tomorrow, but be warned, it's a long one)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, trying for a baby, talks of pregnancy and fertility, fluff, smut, unprotected piv, creampie, slight angst, not proofread

series masterlist - chapter 3 → chapter 5

You walked into the kitchen, thermos in hand, sipping the herbal tea you’d begrudgingly swapped for your usual coffee. Logan stood by the counter, reaching for the coffee pot, and you immediately sprang into action. Without thinking, you grabbed the empty mug from his hand, holding it out of his reach.

“No coffee,” you said firmly, narrowing your eyes at him.

Logan frowned, his brow furrowing as he looked down at you. “What do you mean, ‘no coffee’? Darlin’, it’s coffee.”

You shook your head, standing your ground. “Exactly. And we agreed to cut back. Remember? Coffee isn’t exactly helpful for…” Your voice trailed off, and you glanced away, feeling your cheeks flush.

Logan tilted his head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “For what?” he teased, clearly enjoying your bashfulness. “Go on, say it.”

You huffed, giving him a light shove. “You know what I mean! The research said caffeine can affect… you know, certain things.”

Logan chuckled, setting the coffee pot back on the counter. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, watching you with amusement. “Darlin’, I heal faster than most people. I don’t think a little caffeine’s gonna mess with my…” He paused, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice. “... swimmers.”

Your face burned, and you quickly turned away, pretending to busy yourself with your thermos. “Logan,” you muttered, your voice a mix of embarrassment and exasperation.

He laughed softly, the sound low and warm, before stepping closer and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Alright, alright,” he said, his tone gentler now. “If it matters to you, I’ll lay off the coffee. For now.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by his quick concession. “Really?”

Logan nodded, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Really. If we’re doin’ this, we’re doin’ it together. No coffee, no whiskey, no nothin’. Just tell me what else you need me to do.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you smiled. “Thank you,” you said quietly, leaning into his touch. “It’s not just about the coffee. It’s about… us giving this our best shot.”

He nodded, his expression serious now. “I get it. And I’m in, darlin’. Whatever it takes.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Good. Because there’s a whole list I’ve been working on.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “A list, huh? Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you’re planning on sneaking coffee behind my back,” you teased, earning a mock-offended scoff from him.

“I’d never,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The sound of footsteps approaching drew your attention, and Jean entered the kitchen, her red hair tied back in a loose ponytail. “What’s going on in here?” she asked, glancing between the two of you with a knowing smile.

“Just convincing Logan to give up coffee,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Jean raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Good luck with that.”

Logan shot her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jean shrugged, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. “Just that I’ve seen you sneak a cup or two when you think no one’s watching. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

You turned to Logan, your eyes narrowing. “Sneaking coffee, huh?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m done with coffee. Scout’s honor.”

Jean laughed softly, leaning against the counter. “You two are adorable, you know that?”

You felt your cheeks warm again, and Logan, ever the opportunist, wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. “What can I say? She brings out the best in me.”

Jean smiled warmly at the two of you before grabbing her apple and heading out of the kitchen. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.”

Once she was gone, Logan turned his attention back to you, his hand still resting on your waist. “Guess I’d better get used to tea,” he said, eyeing your thermos.

You handed it to him with a grin. “Try it. You might like it.”

He took a sip, his expression immediately souring. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

You laughed, leaning against him. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

Logan grumbled, but the corners of his lips twitched upward. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

As you stood there together, his arm around you and the faint warmth of the tea lingering between you, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of hope. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together.

---

“Since when has your lab become a shrine?” Logan asked as he stepped inside, his eyebrows raised. His sharp eyes scanned the room, landing on the biology and pregnancy books stacked neatly on your desk. Then his gaze moved to the whiteboard covered in colorful charts, numbers, and a suspiciously detailed calendar.

You glanced up from where you were jotting notes at the table, a guilty smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not a shrine,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “It’s… research.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Research? Looks more like you’re plannin’ to launch a rocket. What’re all these numbers?”

You hesitated, your pen hovering over the notebook. “Uh… temperatures.”

“Temperatures?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Who’s?”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you muttered, “Ours.”

Logan blinked. “Ours? When the hell did you take my temperature?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in the page in front of you. “You sleep like a rock, Logan. I might’ve… borrowed a moment.”

Logan snorted, running a hand through his hair. “Darlin’, you’re takin’ my temperature in my sleep now? What’s next, experimentin’ on me?”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile betrayed your amusement. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s important to track these things if we want to—well, you know, increase our chances.”

Logan pushed off the doorframe and walked over to the whiteboard, squinting at the calendar. “What’re these stars next to certain dates?” he asked, pointing at a few marked in red.

Your face burned even hotter. “Those are… um, optimal days.”

Logan’s lips twitched as he turned to look at you, his expression thoroughly entertained. “Optimal days? You mean to tell me you’re scheduling sex now?”

You threw your pen at him, though it barely grazed his shoulder. “I’m being scientific about it! It’s not scheduling—it’s maximizing opportunities.”

Logan laughed, the sound rich and warm, as he leaned against the desk next to you. “So, what’s next on the plan, Doctor? You got a list of vitamins for me to take?”

Your silence must’ve said it all, because Logan’s amused expression turned suspicious. “Wait, you’re serious?”

You reached for a small container on the desk, holding it up. Inside were a mix of capsules and tablets in various colors. “These are specially formulated,” you explained, handing it to him.

Logan opened the container, his eyebrows shooting up as he counted the pills. “There’s gotta be fifteen of these things in here. You expect me to down all of ‘em?”

“They’re important,” you said, trying to keep a straight face. “And they’re extra-strength so your healing factor doesn’t cancel ‘em out.”

Logan shook his head, muttering under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he picked up one of the bottles on the desk and studied the label. “You really are pullin’ out all the stops, huh?”

You softened, setting your notebook down and meeting his gaze. “I just… I want to make sure we’re doing everything we can. I know it might seem a little over the top, but—”

“Hey.” Logan cut you off, his voice gentler now. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I get it. And I’m not givin’ you a hard time. If this is what we gotta do, then I’m all in.”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the teasing and laughter faded, replaced by a quiet understanding. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Logan gave you a small smirk, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Always, darlin’. Now, how about you tell me what else you’ve got on that whiteboard of yours?”

You laughed, swatting at his arm. “Only if you promise to stop sneakin’ coffee.”

Logan groaned dramatically. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Logan.”

“Fine,” he relented, grabbing the thermos of tea you’d left on the desk. He took a sip and immediately grimaced. “I’m really startin’ to miss the old days.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the thermos from him, though your smile lingered. “You’ll survive.”

As the two of you stood there, surrounded by your meticulous planning and Logan’s begrudging compliance, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. It wasn’t just about the charts or the vitamins—it was about the future you were building together, one step at a time.

---

It had been almost 6 months since you and Logan started trying, which is why you had started doing research and tracking cycle’s, body temperatures, and making sure the both of you were taking vitamins.

But it also meant doing research on other things too. Like—

“Are you readin’ porn?”

Logan’s gravelly voice snapped you out of your focused haze. Your head shot up, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn’t even heard him come in, much less lean over your shoulder to see the screen of your laptop.

“What?” you blurted, your hand reflexively slamming the laptop shut. Too late. Logan’s grin was already spreading, the kind that reached his eyes and filled them with mischief.

“Thought I’d seen it all, but here you are, learnin’ about creative new angles,” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the edge of the table.

“It’s not—” you paused, your face heating as you tried to think of a way to explain yourself. “It’s research, Logan. For… conceiving.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your defense. “Uh-huh. And what exactly were you tryin’ to learn, sweetheart?”

You hesitated, your fingers fiddling with the edge of the laptop. “…Best positions,” you mumbled under your breath, the words barely audible.

Logan barked out a laugh, the deep sound reverberating through the room. “Best positions? Hell, you’ve got a whole lab full of books and charts, but this is what you’re stuck on?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can you not make this more embarrassing than it already is?”

“Can’t promise that.” Logan reached out, gently prying your hands away from your face. His grin softened as he tilted his head at you. “C’mon, darlin’. Don’t look so mortified. I think it’s cute.”

“Cute?” you echoed, half-exasperated, half-amused despite yourself. “I’m sitting here reading medical journals about optimal positions, and you think that’s cute?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it shows how bad you want this.” Logan’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His voice dropped into a gentler tone. “You’ve been takin’ all this on yourself, and I get why. But you know you’re not in this alone, right? Whatever it takes, I’m with you.”

Your eyes softened at his words. Logan might tease endlessly, but there was always sincerity beneath it. That sincerity was part of why you loved him so fiercely.

“Thanks,” you murmured, squeezing his hand.

Logan leaned back slightly, his grin creeping back. “So, you gonna share what you learned? You’ve got my full attention now.”

You gave him a light shove, rolling your eyes as your smile widened. “You really want me to get into the mechanics of it?”

“Darlin’, I’ve spent over a century figurin’ things out on my own. If you’ve got some expert tips, I’m all ears.”

Your face burned as you tried to keep your voice steady. “Fine. Basically… uh, some positions are better for, um, helping things along. Gravity and angles—”

Logan smirked. “Oh, I get it now. It’s physics. Guess you’re in your element, huh?”

You swatted at him with your free hand, unable to suppress a laugh. “Yes, Logan, it’s physics. And afterwards, raising my hips for about fifteen minutes can apparently help even more. Something about keeping things… in place longer.”

Logan’s smirk turned into a slow grin, his hazel eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of humor and something a little more primal. “Practical application, then?” he asked, his voice dipping lower.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked away, suddenly very interested in the bookshelf to your left. “…Maybe,” you said, your voice quieter.

Logan stood, towering over you in a way that felt more protective than intimidating. He tipped your chin up with two fingers, ensuring you couldn’t escape his gaze. “We don’t have to keep this scientific, darlin’,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours.

You managed a small smirk, though your breath hitched at his closeness. “I don’t know, Logan. I think I’d look cute with a pillow under my hips afterward.”

That earned you a low chuckle, and Logan shook his head. “Fine. Science it is. But don’t go thinkin’ I need much persuadin’.”

Before you could reply, he swept you off your feet—literally—leaving your squeak of surprise echoing through the room as he carried you out the door. “Logan! Where are we going?”

“To try those optimal angles,” he replied, voice heavy with amusement. “Can’t let all that research go to waste.”

You covered your face with your hands, your laughter muffled by your palms. Maybe you’d let him win this round.

---

You turned on your side to face Logan, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting a golden glow over his features. He was already awake, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting lightly on your waist. His hazel eyes flicked down to yours as a small, lazy grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and low from sleep.

You blinked up at him, still hazy, your glasses sitting on the bedside table where you’d left them the night before. “Morning,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s thumb brushed a gentle circle over your hip. “You slept alright?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, your words coming slower, the weight of sleep still clinging to you. “You?”

“Like a log,” he said, his grin deepening. “Though wakin’ up next to you’s the best part.”

You gave him a soft smile, your cheeks warming. “You always know just what to say.”

His hand shifted, sliding up your waist and resting just below your ribs. The look in his eyes darkened slightly, the softness giving way to something hungrier. “Ain’t sayin’ it just to say it, sweetheart.”

“Logan…” Your voice trailed off, knowing that tone, that look. “It’s not… I mean, today isn’t…”

“Not an ‘optimal’ day?” he guessed, the corner of his mouth quirking up as his fingers traced idle patterns on your skin. “Don’t care.”

You raised a brow at him, even as your heart skipped a beat. “You don’t care?”

“Nope.” Logan shifted, rolling onto his side to face you fully. His hand moved down, slipping under the hem of your sleep shirt to rest against your bare skin. “It’s been six months of plannin’ and chartin’ and all that other stuff. Ain’t sayin’ it doesn’t matter, but sometimes I just wanna hold my wife.”

You swallowed, your breath hitching as his hand slid higher, his fingers brushing the underside of your breast. “Logan…”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice dipping lower, that rough, familiar rasp sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words. Your body was already responding to his touch, your skin warming under his calloused hands.

“You love it,” he countered, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Now, c’mere.”

Before you could protest—not that you wanted to—Logan was pulling you closer, rolling onto his back and guiding you to straddle his hips. His hands found your thighs, squeezing gently as he looked up at you with that crooked grin that always made your knees weak.

“Logan, I don’t even have my glasses on,” you pointed out, your voice breathless.

“Gotcha covered,” he said, reaching over to the bedside table with one hand while the other stayed firmly on your hip. He grabbed your glasses, unfolding them with practiced ease before slipping them onto your face. “Better?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he said, his hands returning to your waist, pulling you down against him. “Now stop distractin’ me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as Logan’s hands slid under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his palms as he explored every inch of you. His touch was firm but careful, reverent in a way that made your chest ache with how much you loved him.

“Logan…” you breathed, your hands finding his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he guided your hips to grind against his.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Just like that.”

You gasped, your movements becoming more insistent as his hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your spine, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts. He leaned up, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all-consuming, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that left you breathless.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you against him as the hard length of him pressed firmly against you through the thin fabric of his boxers. The heat of him, the unmistakable need in the way he moved you, sent a jolt through your core. A soft sound escaped your lips before you could stop it, and his eyes darkened at the sound.

“That’s what I wanna hear,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers tightened, keeping you moving, drawing delicious friction between you both.

Your breath hitched, your hands bracing against his chest, fingers curling into the hard muscle beneath your palms. “Logan…” you began, your voice shaky but laced with warmth, a quiet plea threading through his name.

“Mhm, sweetheart?” His lips quirked up into that familiar grin, the one that could undo you completely. “You just keep ridin’ me like that. Don’t stop now.”

The bluntness of his words made your cheeks flush, but it wasn’t embarrassment that had your thighs tightening around him. You bit your lip, your hips moving instinctively as the growing ache in you demanded more.

Logan’s hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the soft skin just beneath your breasts. He leaned up slightly, his breath warm against your jaw as he murmured, “You feel so good, darlin’. Always do.”

You let out a soft whimper, your body responding to him like it always did. Your hips rolled, the thin barrier of fabric doing little to dull the intensity of the sensation. He was hard and hot beneath you, and the teasing friction only made you want more.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice catching. “I need…”

His grin widened, and his hands slid back to your hips, stilling you. “What do you need, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone low and teasing, though there was an edge of seriousness to it. “You’re gonna have to say it.”

You groaned, your cheeks burning hotter as you avoided his gaze for a moment. But the ache in you was stronger than your shyness. “I need you,” you managed, your voice quieter than you intended but clear enough for him to hear.

Logan’s grin softened into something warmer, though the hunger in his eyes didn’t fade. “Good girl,” he murmured, the praise making your heart race. His hands tugged at your underwear, and you lifted your hips to help him slide them down your thighs, discarding them onto the floor.

Before you could overthink the vulnerability of being completely bare in front of him, Logan’s hands were back on you, grounding you with their rough warmth. His thumbs caressed your thighs as his gaze roamed over you, taking in every inch. “Goddamn,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “You’re somethin’ else, Y/N.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before his hands guided you back down, the heat of him pressing against your bare core now. The sensation made you gasp, and Logan groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Bet I could slide right in without any trouble.”

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands gripping his shoulders as your need for him grew unbearable. “Please, Logan,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Logan reached between you, tugging his boxers down just enough to free himself. You felt the hot, hard length of him against you, and it made your whole body tremble. He lined himself up, his hazel eyes locking onto yours as he guided you down onto him.

The stretch of him was immediate, filling you in a way that was both overwhelming and perfect. You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he groaned, his hands steadying you.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure. “You’re doin’ so good.”

You bit your lip, your eyes fluttering shut as you sank down fully, your body adjusting to him. Once you were seated completely, a shudder ran through you, and you let out a breathless moan. Logan’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers pressing into your skin as he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through your chest.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice rough with need. “You’re so perfect. Always are.”

Your hands rested on his chest, fingers splayed out over the hard muscle beneath them. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, even as your own raced. You shifted your hips experimentally, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him and a soft gasp from yourself as the movement sent a rush of pleasure coursing through you.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “You feel…”

“Yeah?” he prompted, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath your breasts. “Tell me, sweetheart. How’s it feel?”

You couldn’t stop the flush that spread across your cheeks, but you managed to meet his gaze. “It’s… so good,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.

A lazy grin spread across his face, his hands returning to your hips to guide you. “That’s what I wanna hear. Now, c’mon, darlin’. Move for me.”

You nodded, your hands pressing into his chest for leverage as you lifted your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him as you rose. The sensation was almost too much, and a soft whimper escaped you before you sank back down, drawing a deep groan from Logan. His grip on your hips tightened, his thumbs pressing into your skin as he helped guide your movements.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Nice and slow. Let me feel you.”

You fell into a rhythm, your movements steady but deliberate, each roll of your hips sending waves of pleasure through both of you. Logan’s hands never left your body, roaming up your sides and back down to your thighs, his touch grounding you. His gaze stayed fixed on you, drinking in every gasp, every tremble, every hitch of your breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Always are, but like this? Can’t get enough of you.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and your movements became more insistent, your body seeking more. Logan groaned, his hips lifting slightly to meet yours, the new angle sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made you cry out.

“Logan!”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, his voice strained but full of encouragement. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

You couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips, each one seeming to spur him on. His hands slid up your back, pulling you down toward him until your chest pressed against his. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, making you shiver.

“Logan,” you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I… I can’t…”

“You can,” he insisted, his voice a low growl. “And you will. Just let me take care of you.”

He shifted, sitting up and keeping you in his lap, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close. The new position allowed him to thrust up into you more deeply, and you gasped, your head falling to his shoulder as the intensity overwhelmed you.

“Oh, God,” you breathed, your nails digging into his back. “Logan…”

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re doin’ so good. Feels so damn good.”

You clung to him, your movements becoming more frantic as the tension in your body built higher and higher. Logan’s hands roamed your back and hips, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging gently before releasing it and moving back to your neck.

Logan’s teeth grazed along the side of your neck, his stubble scratching your skin in a way that sent tingles through your entire body. He kissed the spot just below your ear, a soft, almost reverent press of lips that contrasted with the heat pooling in your core.

Your hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice catching as his hips shifted beneath you, his length pressing even deeper. The slow, deliberate grind of his movements made your thighs tighten around him, the tension building with every second.

“Mmm,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm. “You’re so damn perfect, sweetheart. Can’t get enough of you.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and you tilted your head to give him more access to your neck. “Logan, please…” you said, your voice trembling with need.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hazel eyes dark and filled with something raw. “What’s it, darlin’? You wanna tell me what you need?”

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing. You’d been married long enough that you shouldn’t feel shy, but Logan always had a way of undoing you with a single look.

He smirked, his hands sliding to your hips, holding you steady. “C’mon now, use your words. Tell your husband what he can do for you.”

“I need you to…” Your voice faltered for a moment before you found the courage to continue. “I need you to move.”

Logan’s grin softened, a tenderness slipping into his expression even as his grip on your hips tightened. “Yeah, sweetheart. I got you.”

His hands flexed on your waist, steadying you as he shifted beneath you. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver through you. Without warning, he leaned forward, wrapping an arm securely around your back. You gasped softly, your arms automatically circling his shoulders as he maneuvered you with effortless strength, lowering you gently onto your back.

“Logan,” you began, your voice a mix of surprise and warmth.

“Easy, darlin’,” he interrupted, his lips quirking up into a small, knowing smile. “Didn’t you say this was the best way?”

Your cheeks burned as you recalled the countless articles and studies you’d pored over in the past six months, each one dissecting the optimal positions, timings, and conditions. He’d teased you about it before, but there was no judgment in his tone now—just a gentle reminder of how deeply he’d paid attention.

“I… yeah,” you admitted quietly, your hands brushing against his chest as he settled himself above you.

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, his hazel eyes tracing every line of your face. “Figured I’d give my scientist wife what she wants,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You laughed, the sound breathy and a little shaky. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm, you love it,” he countered, his lips finding yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. His tongue brushed against yours, drawing a quiet sound from your throat. When he pulled back, he didn’t go far, his breath warm against your lips. “This okay?”

You nodded, your fingers sliding into his hair, tugging gently. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart. “It’s perfect.”

Logan’s smirk softened into something warmer as he shifted, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. The movement pressed him deeper, and you gasped, your hands tightening in his hair. He groaned softly, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder for a moment. “Jesus, Y/N…”

Your hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, your nails grazing his skin as you arched up to meet him. “Logan,” you murmured, the sound of his name spurring him on.

His hands found yours, intertwining your fingers and pinning them on either side of your head. The weight of his hands, the way his body pressed into yours, sent a rush of heat through you. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough and low.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he pulled back slightly before pressing into you again, the motion deliberate and unhurried. It wasn’t frantic or rushed—it was steady, purposeful, the weight of every movement making your body hum with pleasure.

“God,” you breathed, your head tilting back against the pillow. “Logan…”

“Mhm,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. “Right here, darlin’.” His pace picked up slightly, the rhythm just enough to make your toes curl. He squeezed your hands gently, his thumbs brushing against your knuckles. “Keep lookin’ at me, sweetheart,” he urged, his voice soft but commanding.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity there took your breath away—a mix of love, desire, and something deeper that made your chest tighten. “Logan,” you whispered again, your voice trembling.

“I know,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I know, Y/N.”

He released your hands, his palms sliding down your arms and over your sides. The calloused roughness of his touch sent sparks dancing across your skin. He braced one hand beside your head while the other slipped beneath your thigh, lifting it higher around his waist. The new angle made you cry out softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “Let me hear you.”

Your body responded instinctively, your hips lifting to meet his movements. The rhythm built gradually, each thrust sending a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly. Logan’s breaths came heavier, mingling with yours in the small space between you.

“You’re incredible,” he rasped, his voice strained but filled with sincerity. “Always have been.”

A soft laugh escaped you, though it was broken by a gasp as he shifted his weight slightly. “You… you’re biased,” you managed, your voice breathless.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Damn right I am. But it’s still true.”

Logan’s hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he kissed you again. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, matching the rhythm of his movements. Your hands slid down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he worked to keep his control.

“Logan,” you murmured against his lips, your voice trembling with need.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked, his forehead resting against yours as he paused for a moment. His hazel eyes searched yours, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Never,” he promised, his voice low and filled with conviction. “Not for anything.”

He resumed his movements, his pace increasing slightly as the tension between you built. Your breaths mingled, your bodies moving together in perfect synchrony. Every brush of his skin against yours, every shift of his hips, sent sparks of pleasure racing through you.

Your hands slid to his face, cupping his jaw as you pulled him down for another kiss. The connection between you felt electric, every touch, every sound magnified by the depth of your emotions. Logan groaned against your lips, his grip on your thigh tightening as his movements became more insistent.

“You’re incredible,” he muttered, his voice rough and filled with emotion. “Always have been.”

You couldn’t form a coherent response, your mind too clouded with sensation. Instead, you let your body speak for you, your nails dragging lightly down his back as you arched against him. Logan’s lips found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. “Always.”

The tension in your body coiled tighter, every nerve ending alight as Logan drove you closer and closer to the edge. His name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, each syllable laced with desperation and love. Logan’s own breaths were ragged, his movements becoming less controlled as he followed you into the spiral of pleasure.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice thick with emotion. “Darlin’… I…”

Whatever he was about to say was lost as the wave of sensation crashed over you, your body tightening around him as you cried out. Logan followed moments later, his body shuddering against yours as he buried his face in your neck, his breaths hot and uneven against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with the sound of your breathing and the rapid thudding of your hearts. Logan pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before lifting his head to meet your gaze. His hazel eyes were warm, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

You nodded, a tired but genuine smile spreading across your face. “Yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not done holding you yet.”

---

As you poured over your large desk calendar, carefully reviewing the neat little markings you’d made to track your cycle, one thing became clear—you were late. Just by two days, but late nonetheless. Your stomach twisted slightly at the realization. It wasn’t panic, but an odd mix of hope and trepidation.

Logan was out for the day, helping Bobby with reconnaissance in the field. You had the mansion’s lab all to yourself, for now, save for the soft hum of the equipment around you. You stared at the calendar for a moment longer before exhaling sharply, closing it.

Footsteps echoed softly down the corridor outside your lab. The familiar red-haired figure appeared a moment later, her bright smile a welcome sight. Jean always seemed to have a knack for showing up when you needed her, whether or not you realized it.

“Hey,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, her green eyes warm. “Mind if I come in?”

You shook your head, offering her a faint smile. “Not at all.”

She stepped inside, glancing around before narrowing her gaze playfully. “Alright, what’s got you so deep in thought that you didn’t even hear me walking up?”

You hesitated. Jean was one of your closest friend—someone you trusted implicitly—but the thought of saying it aloud made your cheeks warm. You busied yourself tidying a few loose papers on your desk.

“It’s nothing,” you said lightly, though your tone betrayed you.

Jean arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Y/N. I know you too well for that.”

You sighed, sitting back in your chair and fiddling with the edges of your sleeves. “I realized… I’m late.”

It took a beat, but comprehension dawned on her face. “Oh.” Her voice softened immediately. “You mean…”

You nodded. “By two days.”

Jean moved closer, pulling up a chair to sit beside you. Her tone remained calm and supportive, but her expression was curious. “Have you told Logan yet?”

“No. I just figured it out this morning, and he’s out with Bobby.” You shook your head, pushing up your glasses. “And honestly, I’m not even sure I’m… y’know. I don’t want to get his hopes up for nothing.”

Jean tilted her head thoughtfully. “Fair. But, what’s the harm in knowing? Have you taken a test yet?”

“No. I haven’t exactly worked up the nerve,” you admitted, managing a wry smile. “Besides, I don’t even have one.”

Her lips quirked into a smile of her own. “Alright. Why don’t we go grab one now? It’ll give you some company, and we can grab lunch afterward. My treat.”

The suggestion caught you off guard, but the idea of not facing the store alone—and spending some time with Jean—was surprisingly appealing. You gave her a grateful look.

“You don’t have to do that,” you started.

“I know,” she interrupted gently, standing and reaching for your hand. “But I want to. Come on, get your coat.”

You hesitated a moment longer before standing, sliding into your coat and scarf. Jean smiled encouragingly, and you followed her out of the lab, glad for the distraction.

---

The two of you walked into the drugstore, the bright fluorescent lights making the shelves gleam. Jean glanced over at you as you lingered near the door.

“Alright, where to?” she asked, her teasing smile disarming any awkwardness you might’ve felt.

You motioned vaguely toward the pharmacy section, hesitating for a moment before finally heading down the appropriate aisle. Jean walked beside you like a fortress, keeping her presence casual but protective.

Reaching the section with pregnancy tests, you froze slightly. The sheer number of options was overwhelming—digital, non-digital, early detection, the works. Jean followed your gaze and let out a quiet laugh.

“Who knew it was so complicated, huh?” she said, reaching out to grab one of the boxes. “This one looks straightforward. What do you think?”

You nodded, relieved she was taking the reins. She handed you the box, and you managed to keep your expression neutral as you tucked it under your arm.

Once at the checkout, Jean casually chatted with you about physics lectures, cutting through any tension. If the clerk gave you an odd look as they rang up the test, you were too focused on Jean’s lighthearted commentary to notice.

---

After getting back to the mansion and successfully avoiding the test for hours, you found yourself pacing your shared bedroom, the unopened box mocking you from the desk. Every time you thought you were ready, your nerves got the better of you.

Logan would be back soon, and the last thing you wanted was to be caught mid-test, especially if it turned out to be a false alarm. Not to mention, you weren’t even sure how to feel yet. Hopeful? Nervous?

You finally let out a frustrated groan, swiping the box off the desk and heading for the bathroom. Best to just get it over with.

Jean had offered to stay and wait with you, but you’d insisted you were fine. She’d left with a knowing smile and a promise to check in on you later.

The knot in your stomach tightened as you sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the pregnancy test still untouched on the counter. You didn’t even realize how tightly you were gripping the edge of the porcelain until your knuckles turned white. For months, you’d been doing everything you could to plan, track, and optimize, but now, faced with the moment of truth, it felt… terrifying.

Still, you’d promised yourself you’d do this today. “Just get it over with,” you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself off the edge of the tub and grabbing one of the small sterile cups Jean had handed you earlier. You couldn’t help but smile briefly at her thoughtfulness—of course, she’d come prepared.

Steeling yourself, you slipped into autopilot mode, getting everything in place as clinically as possible. You focused on the steps, trying to push away the weight of your emotions. But when you glanced down after finishing, your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t the pale pink lines on the pregnancy test that greeted you. It was bright red.

Your heart plummeted as the realization hit. You didn’t even need the test anymore.

The wave of disappointment was immediate and sharp, crashing over you before you even had time to process it. You felt frozen for a moment, staring blankly at the stark evidence in front of you. All the charts, the vitamins, the careful planning—none of it mattered. Not this time, at least.

You sat back down on the edge of the tub and pressed your hands to your face. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, forcing yourself to breathe deeply. It wasn’t the end of the world, you reminded yourself. You and Logan had only been trying for six months. There was still time.

But the hope you’d been holding onto—nurturing like a fragile spark—felt snuffed out in an instant.

---

You stayed in the bathroom longer than you meant to, staring at the sink as your thoughts swirled. When you finally managed to gather yourself enough to leave, the sun had dipped lower, casting warm orange light into the bedroom. The clock on the nightstand read 6:17 PM.

Logan would be back soon.

The thought of seeing him was equal parts comforting and daunting. You knew he wouldn’t blame you or be upset, but the weight of letting him down—of letting yourself down—pressed heavily on your chest.

You busied yourself cleaning up, discarding the unused test and tucking away the box in the bathroom cabinet. By the time you emerged, you had forced your expression into something neutral, though you felt anything but calm.

---

The rumble of Logan’s motorcycle echoed through the driveway not long after, and you instinctively straightened in your chair, fiddling with the edge of the smaller version of your calendar you’d been pretending to review.

When the door opened, Logan’s presence filled the room like always, his familiar scent and the soft creak of his boots against the floor grounding you. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the chair, his hazel eyes immediately finding yours.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice low and warm. His gaze softened as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your cheek. “You alright? You look tired.”

You managed a small smile, leaning into his touch. “I’m fine. Just a long day.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “You sure?”

You nodded quickly, but soon your eyes started to burn again, and you shook your head, unable to keep up the facade. Logan’s brow furrowed as his hand slid from your cheek to rest lightly on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His voice was soft, concerned.

You tried to speak, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Instead, you gave a small shake of your head and looked down, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose as you avoided his gaze. Logan crouched in front of you, his hands finding yours, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles in a slow, steady rhythm.

“Hey,” he murmured, his tone coaxing. “Talk to me.”

You took a shaky breath, your hands tightening around his as you finally forced yourself to say the words, even if they came out in sobs and jumbles. “I thought—I thought maybe this time, but… it’s not. I’m not.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, and Logan’s grip on your hands tightened just enough to steady you. He didn’t say anything at first, letting you cry, his thumbs brushing softly over your knuckles.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice rough with concern. He moved to sit beside you, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace broke down the last of your walls, and you clung to him, your face pressed against his chest as the sobs came harder.

“I—I thought I felt different this time,” you murmured against his shirt, your voice muffled. “I was so sure. And then…” You shook your head, unable to finish the sentence.

Logan rested his chin on the top of your head, his hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay, darlin’. It’s okay to feel like this. You don’t have to hold it in with me.”

You nodded against his chest, even as fresh tears welled up. “It just—it feels like I failed. Like we’re doing everything right, and it still doesn’t matter.”

“You didn’t fail,” Logan said firmly, his voice steady and low. He pulled back enough to tilt your chin up so you’d look at him. His hazel eyes were soft but intense, focused entirely on you. “This ain’t on you. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want, even when we’re doin’ everything we’re supposed to. Doesn’t mean it’s over. We’ll keep tryin’, together.”

“But what if—what if it never happens?” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he took a moment before answering. “Then we’ll figure it out, sweetheart. We always do. One way or another, we’ll have the family we’re dreamin’ about. You hear me?”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. Logan cupped your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing away the tears. “You’re the strongest person I know, Y/N. We’ll get through this, just like we’ve gotten through everything else. And we’ll do it together.”

His words eased some of the weight pressing on your chest, and you leaned into his hand, letting out a shaky breath. “I just… I wanted to tell you. I didn’t want to hide it.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Logan said. “Don’t ever feel like you gotta deal with this by yourself. I’m here, no matter what, alright?”

You nodded again, and this time the tears that fell were lighter, more cathartic than crushing. Logan leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling you back into his arms.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to sit in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. The soft hum of Logan’s steady breathing and the warmth of his embrace grounded you, reminding you that you weren’t alone in this.

“I love you,” you murmured after a while, your voice small but steady.

“I love you too, darlin’,” Logan replied without hesitation, his lips brushing against your temple.

The reassurance in his voice settled something inside you, and for the first time since the disappointment had struck, the knot in your chest began to loosen. You weren’t sure what the future held, but as long as Logan was by your side, you knew you could face it.

this is mostly 2006! next chapter will cover the rest of the year!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever

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lostinlovingrevery · 2 days ago

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Prince Charming

Old Man Logan X F!Reader

Plot: He's really no Prince Charming, but he is to you, and you'll treat him like one too.

A/N: I really just wanted to write old man Logan being taken care of...and also being a little softer because he had someone taking care of him...I just want to give him a hug (and other things...)

Warnings: Smut (18+ only!!), Oral (M recieving), Fluff too!! reader gives Logan a massage (in more ways than one ;) ) pet names like princess and baby used, reader loves Logan a lot, a small section of angst but not really?

Word Count: 2401

Soft jazz played in the background as candlelight flickers against the wall of your…bedroom- if you could call it that. Curtains pulled over large windows, fluffy rugs on the floor, a few pieces of furniture placed carefully around the room, with pictures and decorations and a lamp that gave the room a warm, soft lighting- creating an inviting atmosphere that was nothing but welcoming and cozy. The sound of a shower running in the background added to the relaxing atmosphere that you managed to create inside of a smelting plant.

So, was living in an abandoned factory what you imagined you would be doing when you grew up? Not exactly; especially considering you’d always wanted a castle… an old smelting plant can be kinda like a castle, right?

But, did you get that ‘prince charming’ you always dreamed of?

Well…maybe not everyone would call him Prince Charming…

But you did. Handsome, brave, intelligent. He was someone you’d always dreamed of sweeping off your feet and he did exactly that. Your Prince Charming has adamantium bones, lived over 200+ years (he probably met your great grandfather!), and is the crankiest motherfucker some days when there’s rain coming and his old metal bones get a little rusty and needed oiling like Tin man from Wizard of Oz (Did he see that when it first came out in 1939?). You adored him, and everything else was noise.

Maybe Charles questioned your taste in men one time when he was feeling a little moody- but what does he know? He had a situationship with a guy who controls metal, and was, by the way, a bit of a nut.

You were curled up in your shared bed reading a book. When you first moved in- and eventually began sleeping in a shared bed, his bed had torn sheets, flat pillows, and a blanket that barely covered his large figure. He didn’t necessarily see an issue with that- but once you surprised him with memory foam pillows, silk bed sheets, and a huge soft duvet, he quickly changed his tune. He’d come home from a long night at work, collapse into the bed, and his aching bones would melt into the mattress as he’d fall asleep almost immediately, you’d wake up in the night- tucking him in at your side and kiss him on the cheek, and go back to sleep.

That’s what you did, you took care of him all the ways he didn’t take care of himself.

You heard the shower turn off, and in a moment Logan came in, towel wrapped low around his hips, his hair wet on his forehead, and he pushed the wet strands back as he walked to the dresser that sat parallel to the bed. You bit your lip as you admired his figure, watching water dripping down his hairy chest and abs, as your eyes trailed down to the prominent vein that disappeared below the hem of the towel, curse that towel.

“I did your laundry today-” You informed him, snapping out of your lustful state, and he looked at you, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and a warm smile came across his face.

“Thanks princess.” He says in a low voice, walking over to you and leaning over to give you a peck on the lips- something you happily returned, settling on your knees to meet him halfway. He groaned as he attempted to straighten back out.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” He grumbled, hand going to his back, “Back s’just killing me from sitting in that damn car all the time.”

You look at him sympathetically, when an idea strikes your head. You crawl backward and patted the bed. “C'mon, lay down.” You say. He raised a brow, unsure of what you wanted,

“Feeling frisky baby?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes- but you couldn’t help your smile. Maybe you were, but that wasn’t what you were planning. Yet.

Shaking your head, you patted the bed again, “Lay on your belly. Off with the towel too” You say. He gave you a questioning look once more, but eventually obliged. You were never one to do something he wouldn’t have enjoyed anyway. He dropped the towel, giving you a nice view of his member, before he climbed onto the bed, and landing on his stomach; He wrapped his arms around a pillow, face planting into it as he waited for you to do whatever shenanigan you were planning for him. You smiled at his resting figure, reaching over to pinch one of his buttocks

“Ay!” He growled. You giggled, holding your hands up to show you wouldn’t do it again, and returned to your task.

Reaching over, you grabbed your favorite scented lotion, before moving to straddle his back, around his waist. He let out a soft groan, not because of the weight of you- it was slightly comforting to have the pressure of you there, relieving some tense muscles over where you sat.

Flipping the cap of the lotion off, you squeezed a generous amount onto your hands, clasping them and rubbing the lotion into them, before you placed your hands on Logan's shoulders. You gasped at just how knotted and tense they felt- you’d think the shower would have loosened him up a bit…

He let out a small groan as you pushed and pulled at the muscles in his shoulder, slowly- but surely, you began to loosen the knots as you massaged the lotion into his skin. Using different techniques, like rubbing your thumbs in circles in various spots- that really made him groan, something that sounded almost erotic. You grinned, as your hands moved down to his shoulder blades and upper back.

“Keep moaning like that and even Caliban and Charles will hear you.” You comment, he grunted.

“Let em, I don’t care.” He mutters into his pillow, turning his head so you could understand him. A small giggle escaped you, as you continued your ministrations over his back, palming at tense points and working at his large muscles, thumbs pressing into knots and loosening them, you ran your nails up and down his back- scratching the skin that sent shivers through his whole body.

You admired the scars on his skin; as you felt every ridge and bump as you ran your hands over his back and up his arms. You knew it wasn’t a good thing, that he doesn’t quite heal like he used to. You still saw them as a part of him, a beautiful part of him that made him a survivor, that kept him alive and kept him coming back to you. You didn’t know how close it would be before those wounds couldn’t heal up, when he may not make it home. You weren’t one to worry about the future though- not when he was here with you now, and you could take care of him the way he deserved.

You worked him over for an hour, and at one point you were pretty sure he fell asleep, waking up after and claiming he didn’t fall asleep. You sat up on your knees, and gently pat his side, urging him to now roll on his back, which he does so in a slow movement.

“That was great baby.” He muttered, his eyes half-lidded, and his large hands moved to rest on your thighs that hugged his waist as you sat back to straddle his waist. You smiled, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, pressing your hands to his chest.

“I’m not done yet.” You say softly, kissing the tip of his nose, and then his lips. Your hands smoothed down his chest and over his stomach, your fingers twining through his coarse chest hair. You ran your nails down the skin- making his stomach flex in reaction and you grinned.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks at the sight of your amusement. You smiled down at him and nodded, before moving your hips- grinding against him. Something serious came across his face, as his hands began to squeeze your thighs, leaving dimples in the skin. You rolled your hips again, and you could feel him getting harder underneath you. “So you were just getting frisky hm?”

“I’m just taking care of you Lo-” You say innocently, fluttering your eyelashes at him, you wiggle your hips down, shuffling down his body, where you start pressing kisses over his chest. Your eyes looked up at him as you ran a tongue over his nipple, eliciting a muffled groan as he tightened his jaw, and squeezed his eyes shut, chest rising and falling as he felt anticipation surge through him at every touch you pressed on him. You moved down his stomach, reaching the vein you were staring at earlier, sticking your tongue out, you licked down it- right to his pelvis, and he let out a shaky breath.

You felt slick between your legs at the sound of Logan becoming worked up. He always acts like the boss, the protector, and the provider. The moment you go down on him though, treating him like the prince you saw him as he melts in your arm like putty, appreciating the soft tenderness you give him, and the care you take to make sure everything feels good for him- that he enjoyed you the way you enjoy him. It turned you on hearing what you do to him.

“You’re something else, princess…” He mutters under his breath. You grinned against his skin, as you took in the smell of him, he smelled of cedar and whiskey, the scent of a soap you got him a while back. You bit the skin of his pelvis, making him thrust forward with a groan, as you soothe it over with your tongue. Your hands continued running up and down his belly, as you finally made contact with his erect member. You licked your lips as you sized him up. He was large, the prominent vein from his stomach traveling up to a swollen red tip that leaked a generous amount of precum- beautiful

Logan was an old man, but you never had trouble getting him up.

Planting yourself between his legs on your belly, you kicked your legs playfully behind you as you took his member in your hand, tapping his tip against your lips, before sticking your tongue out, licking the vein from the bottom of his shaft to the top, as your other hand fondled his balls. He groaned.

“You like playing with me don’t ya princess?” He rasped, sitting himself up on his elbows so he could get a nice view of you and watch as you took care of him.

You smiled sinfully up at him, and you felt his cock twitch in your hand. His lips parted as he took you in before him, his eyes full of lust. “I’m just helping you not be so tense baby.” You cooed, beginning to stroke his member up and down, he tipped his head back, as you began stroking faster, before taking his tip between your lips, swirling around him and moaning at the taste of him on your tongue. You never truly enjoyed the taste of someone until you met him, and some days it felt like you couldn’t get enough.

His hand went to your cheek, carefully caressing it- before reaching to pull your hair out of your face- holding it back for you as you worked over him.

“Look at you darling, so damn pretty…How’d an old man like me get someone like you?” He muttered. You took him deeper into your mouth, slowly working your tongue around him, as spit began to dribble down your chin as you messily sucked him off. He moaned, his hips moving forward, his length going deeper into your mouth, his tip nearly at the back of your throat. You knew he was getting desperate, eager- just barely holding back from shoving you down on him and forcing you to take him completely. You moaned at the thought, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, you feel so good, princess.” He breathed, his voice losing that deep timber, wavering- signaling to you that he was getting closer.

Your hands braced against his thighs, as you took him in fully down your throat, gagging a bit before you force yourself to swallow, allowing you to bob up and down on his throbbing cock without as much trouble. His hand that held your hair back set the desired pace as he brought you back up to his tip, and down the base, where your eyes began to water, as his very hairy crotch tickled your nose. He was panting, and you now let him take over, as spit covered you chin and his cock, he began thrusting his hips up into your mouth. You felt his thighs begin to shake, and he was cursing under his breath before finally pulling you down over him- head tipped back, a loud curse escaping him, and you felt hot spurts of his cum going down your throat. The pure sight of him was enough to make your legs shake, your stomach tensing as small spasms of an orgasm ran through your body. He let go of your hair, body shaky as you continued to suck him until he rode through his orgasm, and pulled off of him with a pop. You licked your lips, wiping your chin off of the spit.

He fell back onto the bed, a groan escaping him as he brought his hand up to his face, running it down.

“Fuck princess, you’re something else.” He mutters, and you clambered over him, giving him a sweet kiss. “I love you.” He says softly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Love you too honey.” You purred, kissing his cheek and then his jaw, before curling into his side, his arms wrapping around you. “You feel better?”

“Much.” He mutters, and you could hear he was falling asleep, making you smile. “I’ll return the favor, don’t worry.”

You hummed. “Not a favor Lo. I like taking care of you.”

You felt the small exhale of his chest, and you knew it was an exhale of relief. One where he is silently asking, “What did I do to deserve you?” and you knew simply that all it was, was that he was your prince- and you were his princess.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #vans daydreams #wolverine smut #eventually imma create moodboards for all my fics buuuuut i'll at least put photos of the pretty man up bc who doesn't like looking at him #logan howlett fluff

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shybluebirdninja · 2 days ago

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Wild Sip

Summary: Logan makes it clear—if you want water, it’s coming from his mouth, and suddenly, thirst has a whole new meaning.

Pairing : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader

Note : forced intimacy, mouth-to-mouth drink

The tension in the room was thick, the kind that made every breath feel heavier, every glance between you and Logan hotter. He had that look in his eyes again—the one that said he was in charge, and you were his.

Logan leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest, staring you down like he was sizing you up for a fight. You could feel his eyes tracing the curve of your neck, lingering on your lips like he was already claiming them.

“Thirsty?” he asked, voice low and rough, like gravel dragging through honey.

You nodded.

“Yeah? Then come here.” His voice rumbled, deep and commanding. He didn’t wait for you to move, already taking those few steps to close the distance between you two, his body heat washing over you before his scent hit—smoke, whiskey, and something feral, all so Logan.

You glanced over at the glass of water on the counter. Reaching for it was instinctual, but his hand was faster, snatching it before your fingers even grazed the rim.

“Not from there.” His eyes darkened, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He brought the glass up to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip. His eyes never left yours.

“If you’re thirsty,” he rasped, stepping closer until his breath mingled with yours, “you drink from me.”

He was right there, lips parted just inches from yours, his thumb rubbing the edge of the glass before he tipped it back again, letting a trickle of water wet his lips.

“Open your mouth,” he growled softly, and you hesitated for just a second before his hand cupped your jaw, fingers firm but not rough. “I said, open.”

Your lips parted before you could think. Logan took another sip, and the cool water slipped from his mouth into yours, a slow, intimate exchange that felt more sinful than it should. You could taste him, feel the heat radiating off his skin as he watched you swallow.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice thick with approval. His thumb brushed your lower lip, a smirk playing on his face as he leaned closer, mouth just barely brushing yours. “Tastes better from me, doesn’t it?”

It was hot. Too fucking hot. His eyes gleamed with mischief, dominance, and something deeper that sent shivers down your spine.

You wanted to say something, maybe throw back a smartass comment, but Logan wasn’t having it. He set the glass down with a clink and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips crashed into yours—rough, demanding, full of that raw need that only Logan could pull off.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was an attack, all teeth and tongue, like he was trying to devour you, claim every breath, every inch of you. His hands slid to your hips, grip firm enough to make you gasp, and then—just like that—he pulled away, leaving you breathless.

“Not done yet,” he muttered, eyes locked on yours, glinting with that animalistic hunger. He reached for the glass again, took another slow sip, then nodded toward the couch. “Sit.”

You blinked, trying to catch up with him, but when Logan gave an order, you didn’t argue. You sat, feeling the leather beneath you as he came closer, towering over you like the goddamn force of nature he was. He sat down too, pulling you onto his lap with ease, like you weighed nothing.

“You don’t drink unless it’s from me,” he said, his voice low but firm, fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “Got it?”

His tone left no room for argument. You nodded again, throat dry, heart pounding. He smirked, lips brushing your ear as he added, “And you don’t eat unless I’m feeding you.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your back as his hands slid down your sides, making you feel every inch of him pressed against you. His breath was hot against your neck, sending shivers straight down your spine.

The room was quiet—too quiet, except for the occasional creak of the floor or the distant murmur of voices. You could only imagine what the rest of the team thought of this fucked-up little ritual, but you didn’t care. Neither did Logan.

“Everyone’s staring, you know,” you whispered, glancing toward the open doorway, knowing damn well the other X-Men were probably whispering among themselves, gossiping about Logan’s possessiveness, his obsession.

“Let ‘em stare,” Logan growled, teeth grazing your earlobe as he pulled you tighter against him. “Ain’t their business.”

Your breath hitched as he trailed kisses along your neck, his hand sliding down to your thigh, gripping it possessively.

“Logan...” you whispered, half in warning, half in plea.

He bit down on your neck, just hard enough to make you gasp.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was rough, dripping with that dangerous edge he always had. “You’re mine.”

The words sent a shockwave through you, a mix of fear and thrill that had you trembling in his arms. His lips brushed your ear again, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“Every drink. Every bite. Comes from me.”

He kissed you again, hard and deep, and this time, there was no holding back.

You could feel the weight of his dominance, the way his hands gripped you, his body pressing into yours, and the way he controlled every breath you took, every movement.

And you didn’t want him to stop.

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itsmemuffy · 3 days ago

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Booksmart

Prompt:"do you like that?" "i like anything you do." + person a wants to be even closer to person b, so they take their hands under person b's shirt and grabs their chest. (x)

Contents: Logan Howlett (any version) x gender neutral reader, established relationship, 110% fluff

Author's note: I have a few stories in the works that are becoming way longer than expected, so I wanted to challenge myself to write something quick and simple ♡

Your footsteps echoed through the room, shoes clacking against glossy hardwood panels. Logan sat at the far end of the couch where you were coming up behind him, not acknowledging your presence. He lounged with his feet up on the coffee table in a way Charles would never fail to scold him for.

Of course, the man knew you were there. Logan had the beat of your walk memorized– steady strides with an eagerness in your step. He could practically see the sway of your hips from just listening to the sound. Still, the train of thought he was riding needed to get to it's destination before anything else. He wouldn't allow his focus to be broken just yet.

Firmly in his grasp was an old, weathered paperback. You doubt he found it in that condition. Perhaps it was something that has been in his possession for a long time. As you made your way around the couch, you watched Logan's eyes zig-zag as they moved down the walls of text.

He reads at a measured pace, taking in each word and their relation to another. Just as Logan turned to the next page, he feels you slump down into the cushion next to him. Still focused on his book, he gently placed his free hand on your knee to placate you for the time being.

You leaned into his side with a sigh of relief. Today had been a long one for the both of you. Now that you were beside him, all that tension finally had a chance to melt away. Logan felt the same as he traced lazy circles on your thigh. He wishes he was able to make time for more moments like these.

"I am starting to think I'm less interesting than a dead guy from the 18th century," you whine in faux offense, wrapping yourself around Logan's heavy arm.

He lets out an affectionate hum, sparing you a glance from the corner of his eye. "19th century, darlin'. Not too long ago, mind you." Logan shakes his arm out of your grasp to blanket it around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. "Ya got Thoreau off by 'bout a hundred years," he lowly rumbles into your ear, making you giggle.

Not too long ago? you thought. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, yes. But Logan's perpective throws you for a bit of a loop sometimes. Oh, how you wish you had the ability to peek into his mind. You've gotten closer to Logan than most people in his drawn-out life ever have, yet all you get is pieces of his story. Nothing even close to the full picture.

Even in his strong embrace, you longed to be closer. You wait until his attention is drawn back into the world of his novel. Then, you sneak your hands under the layers of clothing; his jacket, his flannel, his shirt, and finally his tank.

You run your palms from his stomach up to his chest, fingers combing through the thick fields of hair. Logan shifts and flexes under your touch. He pretends his focus hadn't been broken until the gentle scrape of your nails across his pecs illicits a deep grumble from his throat.

"Do you like that?" you tease, finally achieving the desired amount of closeness (or something near enough to it).

Logan turns his neck to look at you head-on. "I like anything you do," he replies. He stamps your lips with delicate kiss, letting your deliberate strokes to his torso hypnotize him until the end of the chapter.

#Wolverine fluff #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine fanfiction #Logan Howlett fluff #Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett fanfiction

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th3mrskory · 19 hours ago

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Chapter 7: Echoes of the Past

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: Mentions of past trauma (mild), masturbation (male) and I think that's all. A/N: So, I know the slow burn has been crawling, so this time I decided to pour some gasoline on it. This chapter touches on Evelyn’s past— let’s just say a ghost makes a timely return to stir things up. Chapter 8 …well, you might hate me (but I hope not too much). Thank you for your patience and for sticking with me—it means more than I can say. Now, go enjoy this one, and let me know what you think!

Word count: 6.5k

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The town fair was alive with the hum of cheerful voices, the scent of funnel cakes and roasted chestnuts wafting through the cool evening air. Strings of colorful lights crisscrossed the fairgrounds, casting a warm glow over the gathering crowd. Evelyn tightened her grip on Logan’s hand as they weaved through the throng, the comfortable weight of his presence grounding her in the lively chaos.

“Didn’t peg you as a fair kind of guy,” she teased, glancing up at him with a small smile.

Logan smirked, his free hand shoved deep into the pocket of his jacket. “The guys at work were all bringing their ladies. Figured I’d better not show up empty-handed.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, so I’m just here to save your reputation?”

“Yes,” he replied dryly, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his amusement.

She gave his hand a playful squeeze. “Well, I’m honored to uphold your rugged logger image.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand as they strolled past a booth selling handmade crafts. The fair was in full swing, the sounds of laughter and the occasional burst of music filling the crisp night air.

“Think you’ll get called out for bringing a city girl?” she asked, nudging him gently.

“Nah,” Logan said, glancing at her. “They’ve been waiting to see who’d put up with me.”

Evelyn laughed, the sound light and easy. “Good thing I don’t scare off that easily.”

The banter between them carried on as they explored the fair, stopping occasionally to admire the wares at different stalls or grab a bite to eat. Logan’s presence was steady and comforting, his rare smiles making the night feel even warmer despite the cool breeze.

They passed a booth with a ring toss game, the prizes ranging from stuffed animals to small trinkets. Evelyn stopped, eyeing a plush fox hanging in the corner.

“You eyeing that fox?” Logan asked, his tone light.

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I mean, it’s cute, but those games are rigged.”

Logan tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Rigged, huh?”

Before she could protest, he handed over a few bills to the vendor and picked up the rings. His first toss missed, but the next two landed squarely on the poles, the clang of success drawing a grin from the vendor.

“Nice work,” the vendor said, handing Logan the plush fox.

Logan turned to Evelyn, holding it out. “For you.”

She laughed, taking the toy and hugging it to her chest. “You’re just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

“Don’t spread it around,” he said, his tone dry but his expression warm.

As they wandered back into the heart of the fair, the hum of activity enveloped them once more. The scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet cotton candy mingled in the air, and Evelyn found herself easing into the moment again, Logan’s steady presence beside her grounding her in ways she hadn’t fully realized until now.

They paused by a booth selling cider, Logan handing her a warm cup before taking one for himself. “Good?” he asked, his voice low but warm.

She took a sip, the spicy sweetness filling her senses, and nodded with a small smile. “Very.”

They strolled on, stopping occasionally to admire the performers scattered throughout the fair—a fire-breather here, a fiddler playing lively tunes there. Logan’s quiet amusement at her fascination with it all made her smile.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, bumping his arm lightly.

“Not bad,” he said, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Seeing you enjoy it makes it better.”

Before she could respond, a loud voice called out from nearby.

“Howlett!”

They both turned to see a group of men gathered near a ring-toss game, several of whom Evelyn recognized from the logging site. One of them—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard—was waving them over.

“Caught you at the fair, huh?” the man said with a grin as they approached. “Thought you’d be too busy chopping trees or scowling at the world.”

“Guess you don’t know me as well as you think, Pete,” Logan replied, his tone dry but not unfriendly.

The others chuckled, their gazes shifting to Evelyn.

“And this must be the reason he’s been less grumpy lately,” another one said, winking at her. “Nice to finally meet you. Name’s Rick.”

Evelyn smiled, shaking his offered hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Don’t mind these idiots,” Logan muttered, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

“You’re just mad we’re right,” Rick quipped, elbowing Pete. “Good to see you happy, Howlett. It suits you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, his hand resting lightly on the small of Evelyn’s back.

Rick smirked, his tone sly. “So, when’s the wedding, huh? You gonna invite us, or are you keeping it small?”

Evelyn laughed, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at Logan. “We’ll let you know if he ever asks.”

Rick let out a booming laugh, clapping Logan on the shoulder. “She’s got you pegged, Howlett. Better not let this one get away.”

Logan shook his head, but the warmth in his expression didn’t go unnoticed. “You done yet?”

“Not even close,” Rick said, grinning. “We just want to make sure she knows what she’s signed up for.”

Evelyn tilted her head, her gaze playful. “Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Rick laughed again, his hand resting briefly on Evelyn’s shoulder. “You’re a good sport. Good luck with him.”

After a few more minutes of lighthearted ribbing, the group let them go with a chorus of good-natured farewells. As they walked away, Evelyn glanced up at Logan, her smile softening.

“They seem nice,” she said.

“They mean well,” he replied, his hand slipping back into hers.

“They’re happy for you,” she pointed out, squeezing his hand lightly.

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Guess they are.”

They continued their stroll, pausing near the carousel where the cheerful sound of calliope music drifted through the air. The strings of lights twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow over the quiet corner. Logan stopped, his gaze shifting to her.

“You doing okay?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

Evelyn nodded, her fingers brushing against his. “I am. Thanks to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Logan said simply, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “Just glad I could help.”

She stepped closer, her voice softer now. “You’re more than ‘help,’ Logan. You don’t have to say it, but I know what you mean to me.”

The warmth in his gaze made her chest tighten, and she leaned into him slightly, letting the quiet strength of his presence wrap around her. In that moment, the chaos of the fair seemed a world away, leaving just the two of them standing together beneath the strings of lights.

As they rounded a corner near the Ferris wheel, Evelyn suddenly froze mid-step, her laughter dying in her throat. Across the fairgrounds, standing near a booth selling caramel apples, was a face she hadn’t seen in over a year but would recognize anywhere.

Her ex-fiancé, William.

He looked almost the same as he had the day he left—clean-cut, polished, and standing with the same air of casual confidence that once made her feel safe. But now, he was leaning close to another woman, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders. The sight sent a cold wave crashing over her, the noise of the fair fading into a dull hum in the background.

Logan’s voice broke through the fog. “You alright?”

She turned toward him, startled, her heart pounding. “What? Yeah. I’m fine.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze flicking toward the direction she’d been staring. He didn’t say anything, but his hand tightened around hers, his presence steady and unyielding.

And then, as if drawn by some unseen thread, her ex-fiancé turned. Their eyes met across the distance, and for a moment, Evelyn couldn’t breathe. For a moment, there was no recognition. And then, his expression shifted—first surprise, then something that looked almost like discomfort.

“Evelyn,” he said, his voice carrying just enough for her to hear over the noise of the fair.

She froze, the sound of her name on his lips sending a shiver down her spine. Logan stopped with her, his posture subtly shifting as he positioned himself closer to her side.

“Hey,” her ex said, taking a step forward. The woman beside him glanced between them, her smile faltering as she seemed to sense the tension. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has,” Evelyn replied, her tone carefully neutral.

The man hesitated, his gaze flicking to Logan before returning to her. “You look good,” he said awkwardly, as though unsure of what else to say.

Evelyn straightened slightly, her fingers tightening around Logan’s. “Thanks.”

An awkward silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Logan didn’t speak, but his quiet presence beside her felt like a shield, solid and unyielding.

“Well,” her ex said after a moment, glancing back at the woman he was with. “It was good seeing you. Take care, Evelyn.”

“You too,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning in her chest.

As he walked away, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging slightly. Logan didn’t say anything, but his hand moved to rest lightly against her back, grounding her.

“Let’s keep moving,” she said quickly.

They walked in silence for a while, the lightness of their earlier banter replaced by a heavy tension that clung to Evelyn like a second skin. She tried to focus on the fair—the laughter of children, the cheerful music drifting from the carousel—but the image of her ex lingered, stirring a whirlwind of emotions she thought she’d buried.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I need some air,” she murmured, stepping toward the edge of the fairgrounds where the crowd thinned.

Logan followed without hesitation, his hand slipping from hers but his presence close behind. They stopped near a bench beneath a string of lights, the soft glow illuminating the lines of concern etched into his face.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

She hesitated, her arms wrapping around herself as she stared at the ground. “That was my ex,”she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air between them, carrying the weight of a history Logan didn’t yet know. His gaze remained steady, his hands flexing slightly as if resisting the urge to reach for her.

“The one who...?” he began, his voice trailing off, leaving the rest of the question unspoken.

She nodded, her throat tightening. “Yeah.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something sharp crossing his expression—anger, maybe, or something close to it. But he didn’t say anything, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

“I wasn’t expecting to see him,” she continued, her voice wavering. “And with someone else...” Her words faltered, and she shook her head as if to clear it. “Not that it matters. It doesn’t.It just caught me off guard. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, a quiet insistence that told her he wasn’t buying her dismissal.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned toward him, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s complicated, Logan. Seeing him again—it brought back... the hurt, the humiliation.”

Logan stepped closer, his hand brushing against her arm before settling there lightly. “You don’t have to explain it all to me,” he said, his voice softer now.

She closed her eyes for a moment, the tension in her chest loosening just slightly at his words. “I thought I’d moved past it,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But seeing him... I don’t know. It made me feel like I’m right back at the church.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, his expression shifting into something that wasn’t pity but understanding—a quiet strength that steadied her as her words faltered.

“You’re not there,” he said firmly, his voice low and grounding. “You’re here. And you’re stronger than the person he walked away from.”

Her throat tightened, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered. “It feels like he took something from me that I can’t get back.”

Logan’s hand moved to cup her cheek, his rough palm warm against her skin. The gesture made her chest ache, not from pain but from the tenderness in it.

“He didn’t take anything that matters,” Logan said, his tone steady. “Not the part of you that kept going. That rebuilt herself when he wasn’t there to help.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she let out a shaky breath. “Logan...”

His thumb brushed the tear away, his gaze never wavering. “You’re allowed to feel this,” he murmured. “But don’t let it make you forget how far you’ve come. And don’t let it make you forget who you are now.”

His words settled over her, soothing the raw edges of her hurt. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she leaned slightly into his touch.

“You always know what to say,” she said softly, her lips curving into a faint, tentative smile.

Logan let out a soft huff, his thumb pausing against her cheek. “Just trying to keep up with you.”

That earned a quiet laugh, the sound breaking through the tension and lightening the air between them. She reached up, covering his hand with hers, her fingers curling around his.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier now.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice rough but warm. “Just... let me be here for you.”

The sincerity in his words made her heart ache in the best way.

She took a deep breath, stepping back slightly but keeping her hand in his. “Let’s go back,” she said, her voice quiet but determined.

Logan nodded, his fingers tightening briefly around hers. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I’m not letting him ruin our night.”

Logan’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, and without another word, he guided her back toward the fair. His hand stayed firmly in hers, his presence a steadying anchor as the lively sounds of the fair enveloped them once more.

Though her mind still lingered on the encounter, the warmth of Logan’s touch and the weight of his words grounded her, reminding her of the life she was building—one that her past couldn’t take from her.

Logan pulled the truck to a gentle stop in front of the cottage, the warm glow of the porch light spilling into the darkened yard. The drive back from the fair had been quiet, but not uncomfortable—filled with the kind of silence that spoke of mutual understanding rather than awkwardness.

Logan turned to her as she unbuckled her seatbelt, his expression steady but laced with something unspoken. “You alright?”

Evelyn nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. I think so. Thanks for tonight. For... everything.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, his hand resting on the gear shift. “Always.”

As she reached for the door handle, his voice stopped her. “Hey.”

She turned back to him, her brows lifting slightly.

“I was thinking,” he began, his tone casual but carrying an edge of hesitation, “maybe next time, we do something a little quieter. Dinner. At my place.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Your place?”

Logan shrugged, his gaze flicking briefly toward the steering wheel before meeting hers again. “Figured it’s only fair. We’re always here at yours.”

A warm, unexpected flutter spread through her chest at the suggestion. “I’d like that,” she said softly, her smile widening.

“Friday work for you?”

She nodded, stepping out of the truck but pausing before shutting the door. “I’ll bring dessert,” she teased, her tone light.

Logan smirked, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Deal.”

On Friday evening, the crisp autumn air was tinged with the scent of pine as Evelyn turned her car onto the gravel road leading to Logan’s cabin. The fading sunlight cast long shadows across the driveway, the forest surrounding his property alive with the soft rustle of leaves.

Her nerves hummed lightly as she parked next to his truck, clutching the box of homemade cookies she’d promised to bring for dessert. It wasn’t their first evening together, but this felt different—more deliberate, like a step forward in their unspoken rhythm.

Before she could knock, the door opened, revealing Logan in his usual flannel and jeans, his sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly tousled. There was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put her at ease.

“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside to let her in.

“Hey,” she replied, offering him a smile as she crossed the threshold. The cabin was cozy, smaller than her cottage but just as inviting, with its rough-hewn wooden beams and the faint crackle of a fire in the stone hearth.

Logan took the box of cookies from her hands, his fingers brushing hers briefly. “Smells good,” he said, glancing down at the neatly tied package.

“Don’t let that fool you,” she teased, slipping off her coat. “They might taste terrible.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Doubt that.”

The cabin felt distinctly like him—simple and sturdy, with a sense of quiet warmth beneath the surface. A small bookshelf sat by the fireplace, filled with well-worn paperbacks and a few framed photos. The table in the corner was set with two mismatched plates and a candle flickering gently in the center.

“You really went all out,” she said, her voice carrying a note of playful surprise as she took it all in.

Logan shrugged, setting the cookies on the counter. “Figured it was time for a change. We’re always at your place.”

Her smile softened at his effort, and she stepped closer, brushing a hand lightly against his arm. “It’s nice. Thank you.”

Dinner was simple but perfect—a roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables that Logan had clearly put care into preparing. They fell into easy conversation as they ate, the intimacy of the space wrapping around them like a blanket.

Halfway through the meal, Evelyn glanced at the photo frame on the bookshelf. It showed a much younger Logan in a military uniform, standing next to a group of men who were all grinning despite the dust and grime on their faces.

“Is that you?” she asked, nodding toward the picture.

Logan’s gaze followed hers, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah. A long time ago.”

“You look so serious,” she teased gently, though there was no mockery in her tone.

“Wasn’t much to laugh about back then,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady.

A beat of silence passed, the weight of his words settling between them. Then Logan leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on hers. “I wanted to give you something,” he said, his voice almost casual, though his tone carried an underlying weight.

Evelyn tilted her head, curious. “What is it?”

He stood and crossed the room to the bookshelf, reaching for something she hadn’t noticed before. When he returned, he held out a pair of dog tags strung on a simple chain.

The metal glinted faintly in the candlelight as he placed them in her hands. “These are mine,” he said, his voice rougher now. “From when I served.”

She stared down at the tags, her fingers brushing over the etched letters. “Logan...”

“You don’t have to wear them or anything,” he said quickly, almost as if he were worried she might refuse. “Just... I wanted you to have something. Something that mattered to me.”

Her throat tightened, and she looked up at him, her voice trembling slightly. “Thank you. This means more than you know.”

After the meal, they worked together on the dishes, their movements synchronized in a quiet rhythm. The soft clink of plates and the gentle hum of conversation filled the small kitchen, adding to the warmth of the evening. When they were done, Logan grabbed a towel, wiping his hands as Evelyn wandered into the living room.

Her gaze landed on a Polaroid camera sitting on the side table. “Oh my God, you have one of these?” she exclaimed, picking it up with an almost childlike delight.

Logan smirked as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s old.”

She laughed, opening the back to check for film. “Still works, though.” Finding a few shots left, she climbed onto the couch, motioning him over. “Come here.”

Logan rolled his eyes but complied, sitting stiffly beside her. She tilted the camera, angling it just right, then leaned into him with a grin.

The camera whirred and clicked, spitting out the photo. She waved it in the air, laughing at Logan’s slightly awkward expression in the developing image. “Perfect,” she declared.

She adjusted the camera and pointed it at him. “One more—for me.”

Logan raised a brow but didn’t protest, sitting still as she snapped the shot.

Satisfied, she turned the lens on herself, angling it for a final picture. With a playful flourish, she kissed the developing photo before handing it to him. “And one for you.”

Logan stared at the picture, her bright smile frozen in time. His fingers brushed the edge of the Polaroid as a soft, almost reverent expression crossed his face. Without a word, he leaned forward, pulling her into a kiss.

It started slow, but the spark between them flared quickly. Her hands slid up his chest, tugging him closer as his grip tightened around her waist. They sank into the couch, the tension mounting as their bodies pressed together. Logan’s lips left hers to trail along her neck, his breathing heavy, and a low growl rumbled from his chest as she shifted against him.

Her hands slid into his hair, tugging gently, and a soft gasp escaped her lips when his mouth found the sensitive skin just below her ear. The moment was electric, both of them caught in a current too strong to resist.

Logan broke the kiss suddenly, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her. She was flushed, her lips red and parted, her hair clinging to her damp forehead. The sight of her like this, vulnerable yet full of desire, sent a wave of heat surging through him, and he felt his body respond instinctively.

“Evelyn,” he murmured, his voice thick with need and restraint. His hands tightened on her waist, almost as if grounding himself. “I think we should stop.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face as she continued to move against him, her body seeking his. “Why?” she asked softly, her voice laced with longing.

Logan closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he fought to keep control. “Because if we don’t…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

She stopped her movements, her hands sliding from his shoulders to cup his face. Her touch was gentle, steady, and her gaze searched his, her own chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. “Logan,” she began, her tone softer now. “I trust you.”

His eyes opened, and the storm within them met her unwavering calm. “It’s not about trust,” he said, his voice rough. “You told me to take it slow, and I don’t want to be the reason you change that.”

Her heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice, the way he was holding back, not for himself but for her. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “I know what I want,” she whispered, her words warm against his skin. “And right now, I just want to be close to you. I’m not asking for more.”

Logan groaned softly, his eyes squeezing shut as he rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t—I can’t control myself when it comes to you,”he muttered, his voice low and full of longing.

Her cheeks burned, and she quickly pulled back, her hands flying to cover her face. “Oh my God,” she mumbled into her palms, embarrassed by the intensity of the moment.

Logan huffed a low laugh, shaking his head as he stood. “It’s not you, bub. It’s me.” His voice was gentler now, though his movements were still stiff with restraint. “I just… I need a minute.”

Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the door clicking shut breaking the charged silence.

Left alone, Evelyn sat frozen for a moment before peeking out from behind her hands, her cheeks still burning. The weight of the moment lingered in the room, but so did something else—a sense of care, of respect, and a deep connection that neither of them could deny.

She exhaled slowly, her lips curving into a small, nervous smile. “What are you doing to me, Logan?” she whispered to herself, the heat in her chest refusing to subside.

Inside the bathroom, Logan braced himself on the sink, his broad shoulders hunched as if the weight of his self-control was a physical burden. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the porcelain, and his reflection in the mirror stared back at him—a mess of frustration, longing, and restraint.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. “Come on, Howlett. You’re acting like a damn teenager.”

The words felt hollow as they left his lips. She made him feel like a man stripped down to his most basic instincts, raw and exposed in ways that unsettled him.

He turned on the faucet, letting the cold water rush over his hands before splashing some on his face. The icy shock was a welcome reprieve from the fire that had ignited under his skin. Droplets clung to his hair and dripped onto the sink as he stared into the mirror again.

Her face flashed in his mind—flushed and glowing, her lips swollen from their kisses, her voice trembling with trust and desire as she whispered his name. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he gripped the edge of the sink tighter, his claws threatening to unsheathe.

“Pull it together,” he hissed to himself, his voice low and sharp.

But God, she made it so damn hard. Every touch, every look, every soft sigh drove him closer to a line he didn’t trust himself to cross. He’d never wanted anything—or anyone—this much before.

He shut his eyes tightly, taking in a deep, steadying breath.

His breathing quickened, and he squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the sink tighter. “Damn it,” he growled. But the ache wouldn’t relent, the tension building like a storm that wouldn’t break.

Logan tried to push it down, to shake it off, but her voice echoed in his mind: I trust you. That trust, that closeness—they meant everything to him. But his body wasn’t listening. He was only human, and the fire she’d lit inside him wasn’t going out on its own.

His jaw clenched as he leaned forward, his forehead resting against the cool glass of the mirror. He cursed softly, his hand drifting lower to his belt, undoing it at an embarrassing speed. His breath hitched as his hand wrapped itself around his painfully hard member, his free hand bracing him against the sink.

He beggan stroking himself fast, almost desperate, and he bit back a low groan as he finally let the tension snap. For a moment, the release brought relief, his body calming as he exhaled shakily. But the satisfaction was fleeting, the guilt settling in almost immediately after.

He straightened, his chest still heaving as he stared at himself in the mirror, disgust flickering in his gaze. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he muttered, his voice harsh.

Logan turned off the faucet and took a moment to compose himself, his hands gripping the counter until the trembling stopped. He didn’t deserve her, not like this—not when he couldn’t even keep himself in check. He grabbed a towel and wiped himself, trying to scrub away the evidence of his weakness.

Finally, he stood tall, steeling himself as he reached for the doorknob. His expression was guarded, his jaw set as he opened the door and stepped back into the room.

Logan stepped out of the bathroom, his face composed, though a faint shadow of guilt lingered in his eyes. He found her curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap, flipping idly through channels on the old TV.

She glanced up as he entered, offering him a small, tentative smile. “Everything okay?” she asked softly.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the room. “Yeah. Just needed a minute,” he said, his voice calmer now, though the weight of his earlier emotions still clung to him.

She shifted to make room for him on the couch, patting the cushion beside her. “Come sit.”

Logan hesitated for a moment before sitting down, the cushion dipping under his weight. She pulled the blanket over both of them, her warmth immediately grounding him.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the soft flicker of the TV casting a warm glow across the room. Some old sitcom was playing, the canned laughter filling the quiet space between them.

As the tension from earlier began to fade, Logan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was focused on the screen, her face relaxed, though her hand rested lightly against his arm—a small, reassuring gesture that made his chest ache.

“Sorry if I…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “ made things weird.”

She turned to him, her expression gentle. “You didn’t,” she said simply.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a small, genuine smile, and for the first time that evening, he felt himself relax. The pull between them was still there, simmering under the surface, but for now, this—just being close to her—was enough.

As the credits rolled on the TV, she yawned softly, her head tilting to rest against his shoulder. Logan froze for a moment, then eased into the touch, his arm slipping around her shoulders.

“You tired?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

She nodded against him, her eyes fluttering shut. “A little.”

“Get some rest,” he murmured, his hand lightly brushing against her arm.

They stayed like that for a while, the room quiet except for the low hum of the TV and the crackle of the fire. Logan glanced down at her, her breathing evening out as she drifted off against him.

For all his inner turmoil, this moment—her trusting him enough to fall asleep in his arms—felt like something he didn’t deserve. But he’d hold onto it, for as long as she let him.

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting long golden shadows across the room. Evelyn stirred, slowly becoming aware of the warmth pressed against her back and the steady rise and fall of Logan’s chest. For a moment, she let herself sink into the comfort of it—the solidness of him, the faint scent of cedar and smoke clinging to his skin.

But then, the events of the night before came rushing back: the heated kisses, the way his hands had gripped her hips like she was the only thing grounding him. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of their closeness, the quiet intensity that had left her breathless.

She carefully shifted out of his embrace, the creak of the couch making her wince. As she stood, she noticed the Polaroid on the floor, its corner peeking out from beneath the edge of the coffee table. Bending to pick it up, she stared at her own image for a moment, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

Her gaze flicked to Logan, still asleep, his features soft and unguarded in the morning light. Setting the photo back on the table, she found a scrap of paper and pen nearby and scribbled a quick note:

Thank you for last night—for everything. You have no idea how much it means to me. See you soon.

She folded the note and placed it beside the Polaroid before grabbing her jacket and slipping out the door, the cool morning air brushing against her flushed cheeks.

Back at her cottage, the stillness felt louder than usual, filling the small space as Evelyn poured herself a cup of tea. The events of the night before replayed in her mind, the intensity of their kisses, the feel of Logan’s hands on her waist, and the quiet way he’d held her as she drifted off.

She sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window, before finally reaching for the phone. Her fingers hovered over the rotary dial for a moment before she took a steadying breath and began to turn the numbers. The line clicked faintly before it started to ring.

Martha picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of curiosity. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite pioneer woman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Evelyn laughed softly, shaking her head. “Good morning to you too, Martha.”, let out a soft laugh, sinking onto the couch. “Sorry, I’ve been... busy.”

“Oh, I know exactly who’s been keeping you busy,” Martha replied, her voice laced with amusement.

Evelyn hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord as she searched for the right words. “We were at his place last night. He made dinner, and... well, things got a little... heated.”

“Heated?” Martha repeated, drawing out the word with delight. “How heated are we talking here? Because I need details, woman.”

“Not like that,” Evelyn said quickly, her face flushing. “But we kissed. A lot. And it felt... it felt like everything else just disappeared. Like the only thing that mattered was him.”

There was a long, dramatic pause on Martha’s end before she said, “Oh, honey. You’re in deep.”

Evelyn let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through her hair. “It’s terrifying, Martha. I haven’t felt like this in so long. And the last time I did—”

“—it didn’t end well,” Martha finished gently. “I know. But this isn’t that. You said it yourself—Logan’s different. He’s not some flaky guy with cold feet.”

Evelyn hesitated, her grip on the phone cord tightening. “You’re right, he’s not. But seeing William at the fair the other night—I wasn’t ready for that.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Wait. What? You saw him? What happened?”

“He was just... there,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “I spotted him with some woman, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. And then he walked up and said hello like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t—” Her words caught in her throat, and she took a steadying breath. “Like he hadn’t left me standing there on my wedding day.”

“God,” Martha breathed, her voice brimming with sympathy and anger. “What an absolute jerk. What did you do? Did you tell him to shove off?”

Evelyn let out a hollow laugh. “I wish. I just... froze. I could barely get a word out. But Logan could tell something was off, but he didn’t press. ”

“That man,” Martha said, her voice practically glowing with approval. “He’s a saint. Or maybe a knight in flannel armor. Either way, he sounds like the real deal.”

“He is,” Evelyn admitted quietly, a warmth spreading through her chest. “But seeing William brought everything back. The humiliation, the hurt, the fear that I’ll never be good enough for someone to stick around.”

“Alright, stop right there,” Martha interrupted, her voice firm. “First of all, you are more than enough. Don’t let some spineless coward make you question that. Second, Logan isn’t your ex. He’s proven that over and over again. The way you talk about him—how he looks after you, how he’s there for you—it’s night and day compared to William.”

Evelyn blinked back the sting of tears, nodding even though Martha couldn’t see her. “It’s just hard sometimes, you know? Trusting myself to not mess it all up again.”

“It’s hard because you care,” Martha said gently. “And that’s a good thing. It means this matters to you. But you’re not doing this alone anymore. Logan’s in this with you. Let him be.”

There was a long pause, and Evelyn hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord. “There’s... something else,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Martha said, her tone immediately shifting to playful curiosity. “What is it?”

“We were at his place last night. He made dinner, and... well, things got a little... heated.”

“Heated?” Martha repeated, drawing out the word with delight. “How heated are we talking here? Did you...?”

“No, no,” Evelyn interrupted quickly, her voice dropping to a whisper even though she was alone. “But it got... close,really close.”

Martha let out a low whistle. “Look at you. So, what happened?”

“We were just talking, and then one thing led to another,” Evelyn said, her voice faltering slightly. “It was—God, Martha, it was amazing. But then I panicked and pulled back.”

“Did he freak out?”

“No,” Evelyn said softly. “He didn’t push, didn’t make me feel bad. He just held me. I don’t know. It felt different. Like he actually cares.”

Martha let out a dreamy sigh. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a good one, babe. I mean, if a man can handle that without making it weird, he’s a keeper.”

Evelyn smiled faintly, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug. “I think I’m falling for him, Martha. And that scares the living hell out of me.”

Martha’s voice softened. “It’s okay to be scared. But from everything you’ve told me, Logan’s not going anywhere. He’s patient, he listens, and he clearly cares about you. You just have to let yourself believe you deserve it.”

“I’m trying,” Evelyn said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And you will,” Martha replied firmly. “You’ve come so far already. Just... don’t overthink it. Let yourself enjoy what you have with him.”

Evelyn nodded, even though Martha couldn’t see her. “Thanks, Martha.”

“Anytime,” Martha said cheerfully. “Now, when do I get to meet this Logan? Because I need to make sure he’s good enough for my best girl.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” Evelyn said, laughing lightly. “But I’ll keep you posted.”

“You better,” Martha replied. “And hey—if he cooks, don’t let him go. A man who can handle a stove and look good doing it? That’s a keeper.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes, the tension in her chest loosening further. “I’ll make sure to pass that along.”

“Good,” Martha said, her grin evident even through the phone. “And call me soon. I want all the updates.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Evelyn promised, hanging up the phone and leaning back on her couch.

The weight of the conversation lingered, but it felt lighter now, less like a burden and more like something she could carry.

Chapter 6

______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

Taglist

@coocoocachewgotscrewed @latinapiscess @littlebunnybigheartfics @themareverine @pandapetals @logansbaby @the-quick-red-fox @throwmethroughawindow @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @galacticglitterglue @whos-nin1

@thisismajortom21 @may-vol-6 @Oh-basic @sarahbarbosa22 @luvpalepinkjazz @irish-pooka @yologans @equilight @lxrxvsp @h4nluv @uncannywolverine @thesecretlifeofmo @mystifiesjdmtcw @socisse @thickynicky547 @peculiarpiscess @tezooks @greenturtlegirl @greenbearplaidbow @eummm @benispunk @th8mz @jounal3sports @alsoprettyinpink @softepiloguemylove @manicandobsessive @b-y-3-n @blahkateisdone @karencaribou @sidkneeeee @theworstwolvie @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @lunellas-library @pedroscurls @britttzy267 @aliensfeltmyjoy @steviebbboi

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skywalkerslvt · 2 days ago

Text

Logan Howlett Masterlist

One Shots

Truth Serum

Cramped

#james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #james howlet x reader #x men x reader #x men fanfiction

20 notes · View notes

joelsgoldrush · 6 months ago

Text

“guilty pleasure” | 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. He’s 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 doesn’t 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 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

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 i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s 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 don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 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. It’s 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. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t 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.

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”

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 doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d 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 who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m 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??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison

Allison:

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch

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.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” 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 it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

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.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

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.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” 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 don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.

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.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

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 would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” 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.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s 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 you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s 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 doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t 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. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t 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,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

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?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

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 she’s 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.

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” 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. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

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.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t 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. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” 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. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

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. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

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.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” 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. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

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. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

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?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m 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,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

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. “I don’t think–”

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 he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like 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, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By 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.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My 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 couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” 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. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s 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. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t 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.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” 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 it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” 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. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

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. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s 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.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” 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 he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” 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. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

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. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” 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. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” 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. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re 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.

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

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. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” 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. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” 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. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re 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. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” 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. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re 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 you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

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.

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s 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.

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

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 doesn’t 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: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re 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 you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

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thinkinonsense · 29 days ago

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-cravings.

cw: feral!logan, breeding kink, pervy!logan, marking, TA/ co-workers relationship, belly bulge, oral (fem receiving), gross!logan, squirting, male masturbation, spitting, slight praise kink, slight hair tugging, pet names, slightly grinding on abs? pantie play?

summary: logan's in a rut and only his sweet girl can help him.

a/n: so i pictured dofp!logan but x trilogy!logan also works! hope you enjoy <3 also also not proof read so sorry for any errors

"scott, have you seen logan?" your delicate voice fills the study as you pass by, looking for your mentor.

logan has been missing all day, which isn't the most unusual thing but it is odd that he said he would train with you today and yet, he's nowhere to be found.

"charles said he wasn't feeling well." scott replied, barely gazing up at you. "he's probably still in bed."

you nod, turning around to head upstairs and check on logan like any good friend would.

the floorboards creek under your light foot steps down the hall. charles, hank, and storm took the kids to a lab overnight to work on their final projects. the rest of the adult were either training or lesson planning. the wooden door glowed with golden light illuminating the rim, so warm and welcoming.

one knock turned into three and four. all of them unanswered, leaving you slightly alarmed. this wasn't like logan to ignore you.

❀༉‧₊˚

meanwhile, beyond the wooden door, logan sat on his bed trying to get a grip on this feeling. it's happened before, the familiar warmth that spreads all over. a primal craving attempting to claw its way out of him.

normally, he can hide out until the rut is over but now it is different. now logan has his eyes on someone. not just someone though.

it's the girl he's been warned not to fall for. charles, jean, hank and scott have all told logan that he's not to make a move on you. the girl who's too pure for a big bad wolf like him. for once, he listened and steered clear of you, no matter how pretty you were.

until you signed up to be his teachers assistant.

now with the close proximity, logan is tortured by your scent. the sweet cherry he's become familiar with haunts his deepest thoughts. he could perfectly trace every outline on your body without even trying. honestly, he found it quite sickening how you've carved your spot in his mind.

next to him on the mattress are a pair of your panties from yesterday. he remembered seeing the slight flash of light blue from under your skirt when you dropped your pen in the hallway. there's a damp patch on them, calling his name in mocking tones.

"logan..?" your meek voice was barely audible behind the door. "can i please come in?"

a low growl hums in his chest at the sound of your voice. he wants nothing more than to let you inside and ravish you in the way he desires; but he doesn't want to scare you off.

"not now, sweetheart." he grunts almost as if he's in pain.

"a-are you okay?"

logan couldn't see you but he could picture your concerned face. scrunched eyebrows and wide bambi eyes, lips in a pout. god, he could just eat you up.

" 'm fine." his voice sounds rough, like a bark. he would never yell at you but he needed you to walk away because the feeling of his cock being suffocated in his jeans was killing him.

"alright." you whine. "see ya later then, lo."

soon enough he heard your footsteps down the hall, logan quickly strips himself of his black shirt, dark blue jeans and his boxers. without hesitation he reaches over to grab that panties he had taken from your hamper.

"fuck, smells so sweet." he groans, nose pressed against the soft soaked cotton as he tugs his throbbing cock. spreading the pearly beads of pre-cum.

with his senses clouded and a fire ignited in him, he kitten licks the patch, letting your slick dance on his tongue. picturing your legs wrapped around his head, how your tight hole would take his tongue or his fingers and the little noises that would escape you.

"that's my sweet pussy. all mine." logan mumbles possessively under his breath before spitting into the material and bringing it to his cock, using it to jerk off.

as his orgasm approaches, the fire intensifies; sweat dripping down his temples the faster his hand moves. abs also dripping in sweat as his chest rapidly moves up and down. mind swarmed with all the positions logan wants to put you in.

"s-shit." logan curses, clenching his teeth as his vision blurs and euphoria washes over him. ropes of cum spill all over his abs and happy trail, creating a sticky messy.

left alone and panting, covered in his release, logan's still unsatisfied. he knew there was only one thing that could fix this.

❀༉‧₊˚

it's near midnight when you finally hear logan leave his room. heavy boots heading towards the stairs, right by your room.

"where are you going, lo?" you ask, peaking out of your bedroom to catch him. he stops but doesn't acknowledge you. "gonna leave me here all alone?"

logan could've sworn that you would be asleep at this hour and he could leave to find some woman at the bar to help with his... situation.

"scott's around here somewhere." he dryly replies, trying to avoid your gaze.

"he left a few hours ago." you mumble, nervously messing with the bottom of your nightgown.

something was off about logan; you just couldn't figure out what it was. he wouldn't even look at you. had you done something wrong? was he upset with you? why was he avoiding you?

"i-is everything alright?" you ask, worried for the answer.

logan take a minute to respond, scratching the scruff on his face while he thinks. just because he looks strong doesn't mean he is internally. logan found his weakness in you. a woman he's known for a little over a year and yet you could bring him to his knees if you so pleased.

suddenly, logan turns and looks at you. he sucks in his breath sharply when he saw you dressed in a cute tiny white nightgown. logan was positive that you were the closest he will ever get to meeting an angel.

the material ends high up on your thighs and he swears that in this light he can see the outline of your nipples, watching how they pebble from the cool air in the hallway.

"it's just cravings." he finally answers, tearing his eyes off of your pretty shape.

the moment logan makes eye contact with you, you notice how the color changed from a light hazel to bordering black. he looked hungry. you've heard of this before, a feral state that mutants like him enter every six months or so and if you knew better, you would run.

"anything i can help you with?" you ask, batting your long lashes up at him.

"it's real dirty work, princess." logan warns, restraining himself from jumping at the opportunity.

"i don't mind." you tell him. in that moment, a familiar aroma hits him. "i wanna help you, logan."

normally, logan wouldn't let things get this far. sure, the two of you have made sly flirty comments in the past but it's never gone past just words.

he watches you walk back into your room, keeping the door open for him.

❀༉‧₊˚

your bedroom was damn near exactly how logan pictured it. soft earth toned colors, pretty sheets, messy desk with all the paperwork you two do together. most importantly, it smelled like you. not your perfume or whatever candle you lit earlier. this was different.

"logan..." your voice pulls him back to reality. "tell me what you want me to do."

so considerate. logan thinks to himself as he watches you sit with your knees against the mattress and look up at him like a dog looking at its owner, waiting for an order.

without a warning, logan crashes his lips against yours. it hot and messy how he almost swallows you whole. both of you have waited forever for this moment.

logan lays you flat on the mattress, not breaking the kiss. your teeth bite down on his bottom lip at the small thud. you go to whisper an apology but it's covered by logan's loud groaning.

he take this opportunity to grind against you, only covered in a pair of matching white panties. if he was in a clearer head space, he would've thought this was planned.

"u-uh, please." you whimper against his lips, lifting your hips a little to meet his.

it's quite cute how pathetic you look right now. struggling for more. logan latches his lips to your neck, leaving dark maroon bites behind as he moves further south.

at the waistband of your panties, logan nips at the skin on your hipbone, leaving behind a pretty mark to match the others. he craved to be closer to you. pressing his nose into the wet patch and inhaling sharply, grunting at your essence.

a loud squeal falls from your lips as you lazily try to push him away. too embarrassed by the lewd action. nonetheless, logan refuses to move until he's had enough. licking over the cotton and making out with your covered cunt.

"l-logan!" you gasp as he flips you over on your belly with your ass in the air.

the sound of the material ripping fills the room. this was better than logan could've imagined. the sight of your throbbing cunt as it cries for his attention, and only his.

"prettiest fuckin' pussy i've ever seen." he marvels under his breath. "gonna let me use it how i please, princess?"

"mhm." you nod, trying to look back at him. "it's yours, lo."

your words send him on a spiral, he sinks you down on his tongue so he can fuck you at his pace. exploring your walls and reveling in your taste. no dessert in the world could compare to you.

logan grinds against your mattress, desperately seeking relief. not that he's complaining. he's more than happy with his position; and so are you.

there will be bruises on your hips tomorrow, without a doubt because of how tightly logan's gripping your hips. keeping you right where he wants you to be.

"n-need more, please." you moan, fists balling up the sheets.

"what a greedy fuckin' baby." logan says, pulling off of a second to replace his tongue with two thick fingers, stretching you out for him.

pretty little 'uh, uh, uh's' spill from your lips every time you bounce back on logan's fingers. he's hypnotized by the way you manage to coat his finger with your slick. dripping down his palm and onto your sheets.

"look 'atcha, sweetheart." he mutters, doubtful that you can hear him over the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. "struggling to take my fingers. gotta stretch ya' for my cock. think you can take it?"

"mhm!" you answer, feeling a trail of kisses on the back of your thighs as logan speeds up his thrusts, locating your sweet spot with ease.

there's a warmth of pleasure that washes over you. it's different than anything else you've experienced. before you could even figure it out, you to gush all over logan's hand and the sheets.

"she's squeezing me so damn tight." he growls, watching as your pussy spasms from overstimulation, practically knocking the wind out of you. logan has to fight off cumming in his jeans as he licks up your release.

once logan allows you to catch your breath, you turn and say, "i've never um, never done that before."

"fuck." logan curses, smacking his palm down on your ass. "it won't be the last time tonight."

the sound of logan undoing his belt echos in the room. lining the head up to your entrance and slowly sinking into you. your eyes roll back into your head at the stretch. similar to a cat, you arch your back and purr at the feeling.

"f-feel so full." you moan as he picks up his pace.

"that's it, princess." he grunts, moving his hand down your back and wrapping it into your hair. "tell me how good it feels."

and you don't waste a single second to do so.

"you're s-so big, can feel you e-everywhere." you reply in between heavy breaths.

the hand wrapped in your hair tugs you forward so your back is against his chest. with his lips pressed against your ear, he mutters, "everywhere, huh?"

you nod, digging your nails into his thighs with each thrust. his other hand travels from your breast to your lower torso underneath the nightgown. your eyes shoot open as soon as he lightly pushes down.

"can you feel me right here?" he asks, slowing down his strokes for you to focus.

when you don't respond right away, the hand in your hair moves to your jaw, gripping it and angling your gaze down to the large bulge in your belly. you always knew logan was larger than the average man but you didn't even think this was possible.

"y-yes!" you whimper loudly, needing him to go faster.

logan's not religious by any means but in that moment, he wishes he could personally thank god for everyone being gone tonight. he can't imagine having to muffle your little moans right now while he starts pounding back into you.

"gimme kiss, please?" you whisper in between the lewd wet smacks of his heavy balls against your ass.

how could logan turn down his sweet girl? even while being ruined, you still managed to use your manners.

the two of you sloppily make out, exploring each other. he swallows all the whimpers you let out against his lips. except the one from when logan pulls back.

"what are you–?"

"open your mouth and stick out your tongue for me." logan demanded, staring down at you like a feral animal.

you obey, opening up for him like he asks. logan spits on top your tongue, feeling your tight cunt flutter around him. clenching at the taste of him.

"swallow." he says, watching you do so. "what a good girl."

"i'm so f-fucking close, lo." your head falls back against his shoulder as your vision turns white, stars behind your eye lids.

"me too." logan warns. " 'ya gonna let me fill you up, sweetheart? bet you wanna be full of me, to carry my seed? isn't that right?"

he knows you're too far gone, babbling incoherent sentences and soft pleas. the tiny, "mhm" and head nod give him the okay to cum inside you.

"s-shit!" he curses. "you're so tight, practically suffocating me, baby."

his orgasm triggers another for you, milking him until both of you are struggling for air. the room felt like the inside of a sauna and reeks of sex.

"got another one in you, pretty girl?" logan asks, slowly pulling out of you.

"y-yeah." you answer, letting him move you how he wanted.

logan slips your nightgown off of you and lays you down on your back again. this time fully taking in your form. every curve, dimple and scar. he makes sure to pay your breasts some attention, taking one in his mouth and massages the other, pinching and rolling your nipple until your whining. desperately you attempt to rub your pussy against his abs, gaining very little friction from it.

if he wasn't in this rut, he would've taken more time to appreciate this. next time he will.

you open up for him again and he slips in with ease. logan brings your thighs to your chest, folding you in half.

"harder, please." you beg, staring up at him with those wide eyes that he's a sucker for.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he grunts, trying to restrain himself.

"i can take it, lo." you tell him, stroking his cheek with your much smaller thumb. "i know you need it right now."

instead of answering with words, logan bends down and kisses you in a more tender way than before. as soon as he picks up his thrusts, you tug softly at his locks, making his hips stir and lose rhythm for a second.

"you like it rough, don't 'ya, princess?" he grunts in your neck while his thumb moves to rub circles on your clit. "fuck, my cum is just spilling out of you."

a tear rolls down your cheek, only further encouraging logan. licking up the salty tear before it falls off your skin. never in your life have you felt so dirty.

"please, need to feel you logan." you whimper and he knows exactly what you mean.

"don't worry, baby. i'm close." he says, feeling you flutter around him.

logan's gaze stays locked on where the two of you are connected, watching him slide in and out of you. almost drooling at the image of his cock in your stomach.

within minutes, you're soaking his cock like you did his fingers. slick landing all over logan's sculpted torso. your fingers gather some before bringing them to his lips, letting him lick them clean.

a loud animalistic growl signals his release, painting your walls again for the second time tonight.

both of you lay stuck together. neither ready to let go of each other just yet. on the floor, you notice something light blue peaking out of the back pocket of his discarded jeans.

"so that's where my panties went?" you giggle, capturing logan's attention.

"yeah..." his voice raspy and deeper than usual. "sorry 'bout that, sweetheart."

"it's okay." you reply. "but next time that you get these 'cravings', come to me and i'll help y–"

logan cuts you off on with the rock of his hips and the wet slosh of your ruined cunt. before you can even moan, he's grabbed your white panties next to you and shoves them in your mouth.

fuck, he should've come to you sooner.

– tags: @hazydespair @itsmemuffy @wolvndmouth @nightingale-slayer @melday0105 @collector-of-furby-furs @solistarrs @atomicmystery @milfsarefineashell @ohfourgotten @keerygal @shewolverinesworld @tezooks @spookysquids @llorentezete @actuallybridgetjones @planetxella @silversprings-mp3 @coocoocachewgotscrewed @lethallyprotected @laweona150 @sturnsvoid @emoevanafton @slowlikehoneyyy @ginnylupin @omnivirgo @shiv-r @buckyssugarchick @ayamenimthiriel @balariie @ssloveslogan @stabbedfawn @dxddyspup @leggomiegg0

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d1stalker · 5 months ago

Text

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 :)

----

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 childhood—days 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 couldn’t get any more perfect than that.

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 busy—first 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.

You miss it.

This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break you’d had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go.

—

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 you’re sitting in the back of your parent’s 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 it’s been a while since the grass was last trimmed.

Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and there’s your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the same—warm, welcoming, and full of love. “There’s my girl,” she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can.

“Grandma!” 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. “You’ve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. We’ll fix that with some good meals, won’t we?”

You laugh, nodding. “I missed your cooking.”

“And I missed having someone to cook for,” she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. “Come inside. Your grandpa’s been counting down the days until you got here.”

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. It’s just as you remember—cozy, 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.

“There’s my favourite farmhand,” he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair.

“Grandpa,” you say, meeting him halfway for a hug.

“Got here just in time,” he says with a wink. “Plenty of work to do, you know.”

“I figured,” you reply, playfully nudging him. “I’m ready to get my hands dirty.”

“Good to hear,” he says, leaning back against the table for support. “This old back of mine isn’t what it used to be.”

Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. “We’ve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,” she begins gently. “Your grandpa and I… well, we can’t do as much as we used to.”

You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficult—it's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.

“We’ve hired some help,” she continues. “A man named Logan. He’s been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But he’s… well, he’s not much of a talker.”

“Logan?” you ask, glancing out the window.

That’s when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. He’s wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s strong—he looks like he knows what he’s doing.

“Yeah, Logan,” your grandfather confirms. “Keeps to himself mostly, but he’s get’s the job done. Don’t mind his gruffness; he’s just not used to people fussing over him.”

“He’s been here since last spring,” your grandmother adds. “We needed the help, and he needed the work. It’s 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.”

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 it’s always been.

The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresser—everything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. It’s 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 room’s charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behind—a 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.

You’re 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 grandmother’s laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfather’s playful grumbling about having to pose for ‘just one more picture.’ 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.

The trek to the barn isn’t very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of work—footsteps 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. He’s focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others.

You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. “Logan?” you call out softly.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and there’s a moment where you’re not sure what to say. “I’m—”

“I already know who you are,” he grunts, cutting you off.

His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. “Right. I guess that makes sense.”

“If you wanna help, there’s a broom in the back shed,” he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. “You could sweep up the hay.”

You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but you’re determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasn’t much of a talker. “Sure,” you say. “I can do that.”

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. “There’s a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,” 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 doesn’t 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. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Logan’s footsteps stop. It’s only when his voice breaks the silence that you’re pulled back to the present.

“Your grandma called for dinner,” 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.

“So,” your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. “I take it you’ve introduced yourselves to each other?”

You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. “Yeah, we have,” you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that.

Logan doesn’t say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesn’t seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if he’s always this closed off or if it’s just his way of dealing with new people.

“Well, that’s good,” your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. “Logan’s been a big help around here. We’re so grateful to have him.”

Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, “He’s got a strong work ethic. Doesn’t shy away from the tough jobs, that’s for sure.”

Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. “That’s great. It’s good to know the farm’s in good hands.” Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it.

As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what you’ve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews you’ve had, the options you’re considering, and the challenges you’ve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you can’t help but notice the man’s presence beside you, still silent.

At one point, when you’re 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. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it’s enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is he’s thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isn’t 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. “You’ve had a long day, dear. Why don’t you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.”

You smile. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He’s already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but it’s like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off.

—

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 house—the 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 haven’t 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 you’re 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.

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.

Your grandparents’ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that they’re still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you can’t help but smile into your mug.

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. It’s Logan, a small surprise given the early hour—you didn’t hear him wake up—but he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand.

You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. There’s something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didn’t expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday.

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 him—so different from the unapproachable exterior he’s shown so far—stirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast you’ve 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.

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. “Thought you might want some breakfast,” 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 you’ve known him, and then he grunts, “Already ate,” and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.

His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. It’s not like you’re asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why he’s like this.

“Alright,” you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen.

Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. This is so fucking awkward. You’re 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 you’re sure that he probably just see’s you as an annoying nuisance.

And it’s not like you’re ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that he’s acting like he owns the place. You get it, he’s been here for a for a while, and it’s only been him doing the work, blah blah. But you’ve been helping and doing the work your entire childhood—missing a few years doesn’t take away that fact.

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 grandparents’ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.

—

You’ve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. There’s always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think it’s best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take.

Once you’ve 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.

Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everything’s 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. It’s the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so it’s a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones you’ve seen around the city.

You can’t 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.

As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. You’re completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. You’ve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life.

You’re just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesn’t say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.

There’s 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.

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 Logan’s machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass.

You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the other—the grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan won’t notice, but of course, he’s 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 doesn’t 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.

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 isn’t uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morning’s work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby.

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. There’s 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.

You nod. “Thanks.”

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 it’s already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, he’s probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone.

—

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 grandparent’s 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.

Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a word—his presence now a familiar and abating part of your routine—or sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know he’s never far away.

You’ve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isn’t necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesn’t speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.

One morning, as you’re finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. “We need to run some errands and pick up a few things,” your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. “But we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.”

“They haven’t been to the pond in a while. It’s good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.” Your grandfather chimes in.

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. It’s the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll take them out there for the day.”

Your grandmother’s eyes light up as she hands you a basket. “I packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. It’ll be a lovely day for it.”

“Thank you,” 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. It’s been a long time since you’ve been there last.

In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that you’ve 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. “Hey, Logan,” you say, catching his attention.

“I’m heading to the pond with the horses,” you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. “Grandma’s packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. “Really? But you’ve been here for over a year. I just assumed—”

He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. “I’ve always just walked alongside them. Holdin’ onto the reins is one thing, but I’ve never actually been on top of one.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “That’s okay,” you say gently. “You can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if you’re up for it, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

“Great,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

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.

The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horses’ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, it’s silent.

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.

“I’m going for a quick dip,” 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. It’s 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 perfect—the gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface.

But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.

He’s 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 deeper…But 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 you’ve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket.

You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time there’s a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if he’s trying to be discreet but can’t quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.

“I’m starving,” you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. “Want one?”

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. “So,” you start, glancing over at him, “how did you end up here, working on my grandparents’ farm?”

He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. “I was passing through,” he says finally. “Didn’t plan on stayin’. But your grandparents… they’re good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.”

You nod, taking another bite. “They are good people,” you agree, thinking of how much they’ve done for you over the years. “But where were you headed before that? Where are you from?”

Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. “Alberta,” he says. “Grew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Alberta’s home—or was.”

You smile, finding comfort in the fact that he’s sharing a bit more. “Alberta’s beautiful,” you say, remembering the few times you’d traveled through the province. “Why’d you leave?”

He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. “Needed a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movin’ around, never really settlin’ anywhere.”

You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. “Must have been hard, never really having a place to call home.”

His gaze meets yours, and there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admits, his voice quieter. “But your grandparents… they’ve made it easier. This farm… it’s good.”

You smile warmly at him. “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been a huge help to them. And… well, I’ve liked having you around.”

He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, it’s been alright,” 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. It’s different—unexpected—and to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze.

Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasn’t 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 grandparents’ 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.

You can see your grandparent’s car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning they’ve 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 they’re comfortable for the night.

Once they’re all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you.

“So ‘bout tomorrow…” He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. “You really think you can teach me to ride?”

You grin excitedly. “Of course. I’ll come out after I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“Alright then,” he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

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.

“How was your day?” your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.

“It was nice,” you reply. “The horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.”

Your grandfather, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. “And Logan? Did he go with you?”

You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. “Yeah, he came along. He’s never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But I’m going to teach him tomorrow.”

Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmother’s eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. “That’s good, dear. He’s a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell he’s got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.”

Chatting with your grandparent’s a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Logan’s footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster.

—

Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. He’s leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.

“Morning,” you greet. “You ready to get started?”

Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

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. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Go ahead and mount up.”

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 doesn’t look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. “Just relax. The horse can sense if you’re tense, so try to loosen up a bit.”

He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. It’s clear that he’s out of his comfort zone, but he’s 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 horse’s steps.

“You’re doing really well,” you tell him, smiling up at him. “Want to try picking up the pace a little?”

He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. “Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.”

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 animal’s movements. There’s a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes he’s 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. He’s a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell he’s 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 that’s both grateful and slightly sheepish.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” you say with a grin, patting the horse’s neck.

He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… you’re a good teacher.”

The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. There’s 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.

“Logan,” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

He turns back, his eyes questioning.

“Thanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.”

Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

—

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 didn’t think was possible.

Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Logan’s 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.

He’s improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and he’s 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 wasn’t there before.

And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silence—the 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.

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.

Yet throughout all of this, there’s a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface.

It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that don’t really seem to be as accidental as you may think. It’s in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks you’re not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if he’s memorizing every movement.

You’re 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, you’re in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. It’s hard, sweaty work, but the it’s 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 doesn’t say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. It’s like they’re telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring.

And when you’re both tending to the horses, something happens again. You’re 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.

“Here, let me help,” he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. You’re 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, you’re 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. It’s 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.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what you’re actually feeling.

“No problem,” Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool.

You can feel it. You’re not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist it—how much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and you’re not sure if what you’re feeling is reciprocated, or if it’s 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.

—

You’re not the only who see’s it.

“You know,” your grandmother says one afternoon, as you’re helping them with a puzzle. “Logan has really come out of his shell since you’ve been here.”

You blink, and glance over at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” she says with a knowing smile. “He’s been here for over a year, and in all that time, we’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now… well, it’s clear he’s become quite comfortable around you.”

Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. “She’s right, you know. Logan’s always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, he’s been different. More… engaged, I suppose you could say.”

You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. “I-I don’t know about that,” you stammer, trying to brush it off. “We just… work together a lot. That’s all.”

Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. “Darling, don’t be modest. It’d be obvious to anyone that there’s something going on between the two of you. He’s practically a different man when he’s around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!”

“You’ve managed to do in weeks what we couldn’t do in a year. Whatever it is, it’s good for him. And for you, too, I’d wager,” your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink.

Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and you’re honestly not sure how to respond. “We’re… friends,” you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them.

The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Hmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that there’s potential for something more there, if you’re both willing to see it.”

“I… I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. “He’s just… he’s a complicated person.”

“Everyone’s complicated, dear,” your grandfather says gently. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.”

There’s a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparents’ teasing remarks, it’s 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. “Just take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”

—

The following week, you find yourself itching for something new—a change in scenery. While the farm has been everything you’ve wanted and more, you think it’d 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 that’s been on your mind for days.

“So…,” you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. “I 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.”

He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. “The town?” he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to face him fully. “I 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 doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.”

There’s 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. It’s clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasn’t done in a long time—if ever.

“I don’t know,” he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. “Busy places are not really my thing.”

You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. “I get that,” you say. “But it’s not about how many people are there, really. It’s about taking a break. You’ve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,” you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.

Logan’s lips twitch as if he’s suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think he’s going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. “I’ll go.”

You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. “We’ll leave early on Saturday, okay?”

“Saturday it is,” he confirms.

—

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 environment—away from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.

So, when Saturday morning arrives, you’re up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothes—something comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attire—and head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.

“Off to the city today, are you?” your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.

“Yep,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “and I’m dragging Logan along with me.”

Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, that should be interesting. Don’t think he’s much of a city slicker.”

“Be patient with him, dear,” your grandmother adds, laughing. “He’s stepping out of his comfort zone for you.”

“I will,” you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.

Logan’s already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you can’t help but falter in your steps. The shirt he’s wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength that’s always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there’s an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, “Ready?”

“‘Course,” 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 he’s 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.

Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. It’s clear that he’s out of his element, but there’s something cute about the way he takes it all in. “Where to first?” He questions.

“Well,” you say, smiling at him, “I was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little café I know, then hit a few shops. There’s a bookstore I love that I think you’d like too.”

He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. “Lead the way.”

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 he’s 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 back—a 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.

“Logan,” you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, “what did you think of me when we first met?”

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.

“I thought you were different,” he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. “You didn’t act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldn’t do that.”

You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you weren’t just a visitor—you were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. “And now?” 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, he’s timid, almost bashful, as if he’s revealing something he’s kept hidden for a long time.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. “I thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But it’s more than that. Now… now I think you’re perfect.”

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 he’s just said.

Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. “I was… cold at first,” he murmurs, “Didn’t know how else to act. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met. I didn’t know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didn’t shy away from that—you didn’t let my attitude push you away. That changed somethin’ in me.”

You want to say something—you should say something—to 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 can’t. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.

“What about you?” His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. “What was your first impression of me?”

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.

“Honestly? I thought you were rude as hell,” you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “You were so gruff, so serious… I didn’t 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 didn’t take long for my opinion to change.”

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.

“And…You’re kind,” you continue. “There’s this gentleness about you that I wasn’t expecting.” You suck in a shaky breath. “I think you’re pretty perfect now too, if I’m being honest.”

The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. It’s a rare sight—seeing him like this—and it makes you swoon.

“I don’t know about that…” He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I do,” you reply firmly. “You’re more than you think you are, Logan.”

The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what you’re 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. “Ew! A seagull just pooped on me!”

The kid’s parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you can’t 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.

“Well, that’s one way to kill the mood,” he mumbles under is breath.

You’re still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. “Yeah,” you agree, trying to catch your breath. “Guess we should be thankful it wasn’t us.”

Logan grins, warm and wide. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

—

Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and you’re fine with that. There’s no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You don’t 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 that’s been building throughout your time together.

Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. “Thanks for today,” he says sincerely “I… liked it.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “Me too,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. “We should.”

—

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.

“We’ve got some news,” she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. “Your grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summers’ cottage by the lake.”

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. “That sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.”

“Well, we thought so too,” your grandfather says. “But that means we’ll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.”

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, who’s sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But there’s a quick flash of something that suggests he’s as aware of the situation as you are.

A voice brings you back to the moment. “Now, don’t worry,” she says with a reassuring smile. “There’s not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And we’ll be back before you know it.”

Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. “We trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,” he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. “And to keep an eye on each other.”

You can’t 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 buffer—your grandparents—means that literally anything could happen.

“Don’t worry,” you finally manage to say. “We’ve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.”

Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. “Yeah,” he agrees, “We’ll take care of everything.”

—

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, “Take care, dear,” she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passenger’s seat.

Your grandfather shakes Logan’s hand, giving him a firm nod. “Take care of things.”

He hums. “I will. Enjoy yourselves.”

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.

There’s a pause.

Suddenly, you’ve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing.

“So,” you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. “I guess it’s just us now.”

Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah,” he replies a bit deeper than usual. “Just us.”

“What should we do first?” you ask as casually as possible.

He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Same old, I guess. Can’t let everythin’ fall apart right when they leave..”

“True. Let’s start with that.”

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 you’re busy with work, there’s an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each other’s presence that just wasn’t there before. And it’s impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of what’s to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration.

That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, you’re in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents there—emptier, 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.

“Long day,” he grunts.

“Yeah,” you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But it was nice. Peaceful.”

His eyes find yours. “Peaceful,” 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. “I’ll check on the barn,” he says gruffly. “Make sure everything’s locked up for the night.”

“Okay,” you reply, your voice softer than you intended.

Logan leaves to check on the barn, while he’s gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils.

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.

It’s now or never, you think. “We have the place to ourselves now,” you state.

He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. “Indeed we do,” he replies.

The simple acknowledgment—and the way he says it—makes your pulse quicken, and you can’t help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. He’s always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way he’s respected your space, you’re done with tiptoeing around.

“Do I need to spell it out for you, or—” But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves.

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 what’s 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 surroundings—the night, the farm, everything—as you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. It’s intense and claiming, a declaration of everything you’ve 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 there’s 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 he’s really here, kissing you.

Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing you’ve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. It’s something that’s so uniquely him—so uniquely Logan—and you can’t get enough. You’ve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of it—to the way he kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters.

When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Logan’s 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.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isn’t missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your pu—

“You’re not the only one,” 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 didn’t 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. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Then don’t,” 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, Logan’s 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.

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, “God, you drive me crazy,” and then he’s on you again.

It’s 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.

The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core.

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. “You know,” you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, “as much as I’m enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. “As you wish,” he murmurs.

As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that he’s 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.

“We gotta go to your room,” you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.“I don’t think I’m ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what you’re implying. “Oh, is that so?” he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside.

By the time you reach his door, you’re 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 can’t help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.

You turn to face Logan, but he doesn’t 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 there’s none. You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that it’s taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him.

His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asks in between kisses.

“Absolutely,” 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. They’re everywhere—one 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 it’s 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 can’t help the way your hips rock against him, the need for more—more 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.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he mutters, voice thick with want. “No idea why I waited so long.”

You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, “Don’t need to wait any longer.”

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. You’re left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way he’s staring at you—like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes you feel powerful, desired in a way you’ve never felt before.

He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yours—bare— 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 him—strong, muscular, yours—makes your breath catch in your throat.

There’s a moment where he’s standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then he’s 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 can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Please.”

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 you’re 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.

Logan’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. You’re lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until it’s 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 he’s driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. “Tell me what you want,” he commands.

You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, “You. I want–I need you.”

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 can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.

“Oh god,” you moan. “I need you. Please.”

And then, finally, Logan gives you what you’ve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely.

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 you’ve 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 you’ve been dreaming of and more, and you can’t 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.

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.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I’m more than okay,” you whisper back, voice full of emotion. “That was… everything.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Logan’s lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Yeah, it was,” 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 other’s arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Get some rest,” you hear, “We’ve got plenty of time… no need to rush.”

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.

—

You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Logan’s 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 isn’t 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.

His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, “Morning…”

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 eyes—dark and hungry—tells you that he feels the same way.

The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isn’t 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. It’s like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment you’re together becomes an opportunity.

It starts innocently enough—just a kiss in the barn when you’re 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 you’re 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 there’s no point in pretending. Logan’s 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.

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, you’re 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 Logan’s room, the place where it all began.

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.

“This week… it’s been more than I ever expected,” he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. “I don’t want it to end.”

You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected there—the same desire to hold on to what you’ve found together. “It doesn’t have to,” you reply. “We don’t have to go back to the way things were before.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. “No, we don’t,” he concurs.

—

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. “We’re back!” she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.

You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. “How was the trip?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. “The cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.”

Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. “Everything go smoothly while we were gone?” he asks.

You blush. “Yes, everything was fine.”

Then they do that thing they’ve been doing the whole time you’ve been with them, where they exchange a glance—and share a look that speaks volumes. It’s 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.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much they’ve guessed.

“Seems like you two managed just fine without us.” Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. It’s a way to tell you that he’s just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But there’s no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.

—

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.

It’s not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesn’t go ignored. It’s the little moments that fill your days—the 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 you’re working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you don’t need it).

The work on the farm continues to get done, but there’s a new layer to everything you do—a 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. He’s heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.

“Logan, why don’t you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,” 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 insane—there’s a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. It’s almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesn’t want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town.

You have half a mind to join them.

The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after he’s turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesn’t 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.

“He’s really got it bad for you, doesn’t he?” she says affectionately. “I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.”

Your heart blooms in your chest. “I guess he does,” you reply, your voice soft, breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you.

Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm “And you’ve got it bad for him too, I’d say.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

—

Several weeks later, it’s raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasn’t going to go to plan. You’re 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.

But then you decide to go through some emails—just a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Logan’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routine—newsletters, updates, the usual clutter—but then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.

It’s 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 it—your dream job, the opportunity you’ve been working toward for years. It’s everything you’ve 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, who’s 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 you’ve built together, at least for a while. And you don’t know when—or even if—you’ll be back.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I… I just got an email,” 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 he’s feeling. At first, there’s no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see it—the subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows.

He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.

Then, “This is what you’ve been waiting for.” His voice is steady, but there’s a sadness there too, a heaviness that you can’t ignore.

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah… it is.”

There’s 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. “You have to take it.”

You swallow hard. “But what about us? I don’t know when I’ll be back… or if I’ll even be able to come back.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he’s trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. “You’ve worked too hard for this to pass it up.”

His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way he’s 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. “I don’t want to leave you,” 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 can’t bring himself to say. “I don’t want you to leave either,” he admits. “But I’ll be here when you get back. However long it takes.”

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 didn’t expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.

—

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.

In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm life—early mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each other’s arms, exhausted but content. But now, there’s a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time that’s not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadn’t quite as often before.

These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments you’ve shared on the farm—they’re softer, more tender, as if you’re both trying to imprint each other’s 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 you’re 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 course—Logan’s touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as ever—but now, there’s a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadn’t been there before.

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. They’ve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and there’s a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together.

It’s not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you.

They don’t 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.

Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Logan’s arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.

“You know,” your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, “I see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.”

You smile, leaning into Logan’s side as you listen to her. “You two have always been such an inspiration,” you say, meaning every word.

She chuckles, a wistful sound. “It wasn’t always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasn’t sure if we’d make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now… I know you’ll find a way.”

Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.

Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. “I believe you will. But just know… it’s okay to be sad, to be scared. That’s part of loving someone.”

The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. “You’ll be alright, my dear. Both of you.”

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 other’s arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans you’ll make when you’re together again. But still, it’s sad.

—

Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at dusk—inevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is it—your 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 breeze—it’s all so beautiful, so full of memories.

You don’t realize you’re 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 doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes says it all—he 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.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” 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 other’s 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. “Let’s go to the pond,” he says delicately. “Just you and me.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where you’ve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so it’s 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. Logan’s 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.

You and Logan stand at the water’s 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. It’s not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeks—this is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the water’s 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, there’s only this moment.

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.

It’s a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says I’ll 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. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” you choke out. “More than anything.”

—

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 different—this 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 it’s impossible to shake the image that’s burned into your mind—the 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.

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 it’s no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon you’re bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car.

You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.

—

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.

At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that you’re not alone, that he’s 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.

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 you’re 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.

Then, one day, the call comes—the call you’ve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. It’s your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away.

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 he’s there too—Logan. He’s standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, it’s 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.

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 you’ve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, everything hitting you at once—the loss of your grandfather, the years you’ve spent apart, the life you could have had together.

He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I miss you,” he murmurs thickly. “Every damn day, I miss you.”

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 he’s kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. It’s clear that the farm hasn’t been the same without you, just as your life hasn’t 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 there’s a calm acceptance in her expression. “I’ve made a decision,” she says softly, her voice steady. “I’m going to sell the farm.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. “Not to just anyone,” she adds quickly. “To Logan. He’s 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 can’t manage on my own anymore.”

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 there’s 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, you’re tangled in Logan’s arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.

—

Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. You’ve 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 dissatisfaction—it begins to weigh on you more and more.

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. It’s a drastic change, but it’s one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life you’ve been yearning for, isn’t in the city.

It’s back at the farm.

As you step out of your car, you see him. He’s 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.

There’s a lifetime of emotions in that look—love, longing, hope. Most of all, there’s recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment you’ve been waiting for all these years.

And when you’re 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.

----

7K notes · View notes

nymphoniah · 2 months ago

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p links with logan howlett part 2

nsfw, minors dni! 18+ only! (part 1) (part 3)

i’m like ovulating right now so ummm…! here’s another list of vids i wanna share with yall :3

also plsss let me know if yall wanna see more of this—i like making these lil lists for myself but if you guys enjoy em as well, then id love to make more!

you’re an absolute mess for logan, begging for your daddy to make you feel good

a movie night with logan takes a turn, and he ends up fucking you rough on the couch

size kink with logan! he can’t help but pound into his girl’s little cunt.

logan loves to tease you, pulling your panties to the side, slipping his tip in and out, making a mess outta you.

it drives you crazy when he manhandles you, using your cunt and throat as his own personal fuck toy.

logan whispering sweet nothings into your ears as he fucks you from behind

whining around logan’s cock, deepthroating him while he fingers your cunt

catching logan fucking his fist with your cute lil’ panties around his cock—but you decide to give him the real deal

dressing up cute for logan and he shows you his appreciation with a creampie

logan lapping at your cunt like a starved man

some bonus fluff:

being playful in bed with logan while he eats you out :3

aftercare with logan!! making sure that his sweet little girl is alright, keeping her safe in his arms >_<

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lostalioth · 3 months ago

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𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡

→ premise: logan was obsessed, he was from the moment he met you. he didn’t get crushes, but you’ve turned the big bad wolverine into a depraved puppy and he’s had enough.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: 2k words, smut | 18+, obsession [not dark, just like a big crush, idk how to actually write obsession well], belly bulge, unprotected sex, nicknames [baby, princess, pretty girl], creampie, I visualized like x1-3 logan when writing but you can imagine whichever logan era.

→ a/n: kinktober 09

Logan was utterly obsessed, entranced by your entire being. If he didn’t already know what your mutation was, he'd swear you were a witch that cast a love spell on him so he goes starry eyed and dulcet when you walk in a room. He wasn't the kind of man to get crushes, he did one night stands to satiate his needs and yet now he can't bring himself to want anybody but you.

You and your pretty eyes that sparkle when you look at him and flutter your eyelashes to get what you want. You and your tendency to brush against him or run your hand down his arm when you walk around him making his brain go fuzzy and getting him all flustered. The whole team could see how smitten and enthralled he was with you, mocking him and calling him a love sick puppy especially when you go away on mission and he mopes around the mansion. He’s had enough of the little flirting back and forth and nothing coming of it, he was desperate for you and his crush was only getting stronger as the months went on.

You had just gotten back from a short mission with Storm and Jean when before you could even say hi to everybody Logan is grabbing your hand and pulling you away down the hall. “eh- hey! Lo slow down” you squeal out as he drags you along behind him, heart racing at the feeling of his fingers intertwined with your own. The nickname you've resorted to calling him as the two of you have gotten closer makes his ears ring. He loved when you called him Lo you were the only one allowed to, anybody else who tired got glared at.

“Need to talk to ya’ now, right now” he grumbled out, his signature, you swore permanent grumpy scowl plastered on his face. He continues to tug you down the long hall towards your bedroom. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion at where he's taking you. Pushing open your door, he turns around and yanks you inside. Shutting the door, his body now facing you. His grip on your hand is still tight, he didnt wanna let go especially not when you haven't said anything about the fact he’s practically holding your hand.

“What is it? Is everything okay Lo?” You question in that sweet concerned voice you give him when he tells you he didn't sleep well because of another nightmare. “Do you want me?” He blurts out so fast the words practically blend together. You think you hear his question and it makes your head spin in more confusion but you needed him to repeat it. “What’d you say” you question as your gaze stays fixed on Logan, his own glued to your face watching for reactions. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves he starts again “Do you want me?” He questions in a slower softer tone.

Now your head really was spinning and slick settled in your core at his wording, he wasn't asking if you liked him, no he was asking if you WANTED him. your eyes that were on him are now darting around the room like it's the most fascinating thing. Through the fogginess of your brain all you can manage to eat out is a “What..?”

Pushing forward Logan backs your body up against your shut bedroom door, his frame looming over you and blocking you in. The hand that is not entangled with yours comes up to your chin to grab it and make you look at him. “Do. You. Want. Me? I'm not repeatin’ myself again pretty girl” he growls out, punching out each word of his question. He was losing his patience especially after the sweet scent of your arousal fills his nostrils and makes his cock twitch. “Cause i want you princess, have wanted you for fuckin’ months. And it's killing me, you’re killin’ me pretty girl” he groans out in frustration.

“Do you even know what you do to me? What my crush on you is doin’ to me princess? All our flirting and lingering looks, everybody always mocking me for how I act round you” he continues to ramble on, pulling your face closer to his as he waits on an answer to at least one of his questions.

“Yes..i want you Lo” you mumble out breathlessly and low. A big lopsided smirk spreads on Logan’s face as your words register in his head. “What was that baby?” He teases, needing you to repeat it just so he can hear it again.

“I want you Logan, really fucking bad” you whine out as your core aches for attention, your hips gravitate towards his to push against him. “Shit- fuck it” he groans out and grabs ahold of your waist and crashes his lips agaisnt yours, he knew the two of you should’ve gone back to the team. You needed to give Charles a debrief of the mission but Logan could care less at the moment. You kiss him with the same amount of passion and fever as your arms wrap around his neck pressing your chest to his. You hum and moan into the kiss sending vibrations through Logan’s body and straight to his confined cock that was begging to be released. “Jump and wrap ya’ legs around me baby” he instructed, his words mumbled against your lips but clear enough for you to understand. Jumping up a bit, Logan catches you by grabbing onto your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Atta girl princess” you smile against his lips at the praise while he walks the two of you over to your plush bed.

Laying you down on your back, he keeps his body between your spread thighs as his mouth pulls away from yours and drifts down to kiss at your neck. His hard cock pressed right up against your leaking cunt in this position, his large hands rubbing and groping all over your body. Running over your hips and waist, palming over your tits and grabbing at your ass, anywhere his hands can reach, indulging in the fact you're allowing him to touch you like this. “Mhmm Lo, baby please i need you” you whine out and buck your hips against his, grinding your core against his bulge. “Yeah? Whatcha need baby? Huh princess? Use your words” he doesnt pull away from your neck, continuously kissing it and along your collarbones and chest as you were wearing a low cut top, even sucking and biting at your skin to form hickeys.

”Need you, need you to fuck me Lo please” you whimper out and tug at the wasit band of his jeans as well as push up at his white tank top. “Yeah i can do that baby fuck” he grunts out and sucks in a breath, a shiver going down his back when you strach at his lower stomach and happy trail. The feeling of your hands on his bare skin makes his body tingle and skin feel on fire.

His movements are frantic as he is quick to strip off his shirt and yours. Pulling your pants down and off your legs alongside your panties, leaving your bare pussy exposed to the cool air. “Oh fuck~ shes so pretty” he mumbled out under his breath seemingly to himself, you werent sure if it was aimed at your cunt or you. in his haste he just barely pushes his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock. His throbbing cock springs free, making you gasp at his size, he didn't feel nearly as big when it was hidden as he looks now. His cock long and so deliciously thick that it has your mouth watering wanting a taste. You knew your jaw would burn to accommodate his size; you couldn't imagine your cunt fitting him. “Lo i don't know if it’ll fit” you whine out, looking into his lust blown eyes with concern.

“Pretty girl if you’re as wet as ya’ smell i’ll slip right in” he chuckles softly, grabbing himself at the base and nudging his mushroom tip to open your slit and rub it through your soaked folds. Your slick collects and mixes with the precum leaking from his cock lubing up his shaft and tip. Your hole clenches around nothing everytime he brushes over it making your hips twitch and thrust up trying to get him to push inside already.

“Mmm Lo..please just fuck me already” you whine out and squirm. His brows furrowed in concentration, gaze locked on where your bodies meet, trying his hardest not to already blow his load as he lines his tip up at your entrance. Just rubbing over your pussy with his cock was causing his balls to tighten, your pussy felt heavenly and addicting. This moment was 10 times better than any of the hundreds of wet dreams he had late at night where he’d wake up with a wet spot forming in his sweats.

He lets out a broken gasp that morphs into a string of curses when he finally slowly pushes into the wet heat of your cunt. “Oh fuck~ shes already squeezin’ me so tight baby” he grunts as he finally bottoms out buried to the hilt, his hips wasting no time in finding a rymth and thrusting deep inside you. the sting of your pussy stretching to take his cock makes your head go hazy, eyes screwing shut in bliss.

You clench around him and Logan cant stop himself from thrusting harder and faster, a slurred pussy-drunk mess of sentences fall from his mouth.

“Fuck youre so hot princess, s’good for me” “Cant believe ya’ letting me do this to you, fuckin’ you like this” “Dreamt’ bout’ this for so long, been fuckin’ obsessed with ya’ for forever” he whines out in a long run on setenace as his hips slam against yours, the filthy squelching sound of your cunt and your moans and whimpers fill the air in your room. You didn't care that you were being loud enough that anyone who walked past your door would definitely hear you and know what was going on. the knowledge of that seemed to be spurring both you and Logan on more.

His eyes are locked at where your bodies are connected, his cock creating a bulge in your lower stomach every time he thrusts all the way in. “Fuck baby, look at that, my cock s’big its making a bulge when im buried inside” he groans out and presses down on your lower stomach making your cunt clench down harder on him, your body trying to milk his release out of him. Tipping your head down you open your eyes to watch as his cock thrusts in and out of your throbbing pussy, his tip driving right into that spot deep inside you making you see stars. That spongy spot that your toys could never reach just right when Logan would get you all worked up with his flirting, not like his cock currently is.

“M’gonna cum Lo- baby, Fuck- mhm~ wanna cum with you please” you moan out, your sentence coming out broken up as your climax was teetering on the edge. “Im gonna cum too baby don’t worry pretty girl” he hissed out as his fingers dig into your hips, his own flattering in there thrusting as his cock twitches inside you. “Cum on my cock princess, gonna fill this pretty up makin’ it all mine-” you cut off his sentence by grabbing ahold of the back of his neck, pulling his face down to kiss him desperately.

“Already all yours Lo, i been yours the whole time” you whine against his lips as your high washes over you, cumming on his cock as his thrusts speed up one last time.

Your cream coating his cock acts to further lube up his thick cock as it jackhammers into you, before your cunt milks Logan’s cum out of him in thick ropes that fill you. “Ya’ 100 percent all mine now baby” he hums into your mouth, lazily kissing you while he catches his breath, your hips grinding on his cock as you both ride out your highs.

→ a/n: fully meant to post this yesterday but i barely had anything written for it then and couldnt bring myself to write more. Im doing better than I’ve done the past 3 years with kinktober tho, gotten further than any other times.

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mcrdvcks · 3 months ago

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i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ masterlist

𓆩♡𓆪 summary: Logan has spent lifetimes haunted by a curse only he understands—meeting the same woman, you, in every era, only to lose you over and over again. Each time, you’re reborn without memories of your past lives, while Logan, who remembers everything, tries in vain to protect you from the tragedies that seem destined to follow.

𓆩♡𓆪 pairing: Logan Howlett (X-Men) x fem!reader

𓆩♡𓆪 tags: fluff, angst, character death(s), outdated mindsets on women, mention of injuries, time skipping, soulmates, smut*, 'x2', 'the last stand', 'days of future past', (more specific tags come along with each chapter)

𓆩♡𓆪 chapters:

1854 - could it be love?

1880 - labyrinth of my heart

1900 - with you i'm free

1943 - wounds and whispers

1973 - we meet again my dear...*

1974 - ...but it was never meant to be*

2003 - i can see us lost in the memory

2003 - who are we to fight the alchemy?

2003 - who are we to fight the alchemy? pt.2

2004 - i love you, i'm sorry

interlude - i have questions

2023 - nothing matters but you

𓆩♡𓆪 bonus chapters:

alternate timeline - i love you, always and forever

𓆩♡𓆪 summary: Now that Logan found you he's determined to make sure you stay. But perhaps there is no more danger to be found. Or, the story of how you and Logan built a family.

𓆩♡𓆪 chapters:

make you mine

my girl, my man

homecoming*

science, baby!*

death by a thousand cuts

love won; love lost

understanding*

this is me trying*

rekindling

you're too sweet for me*

wanna see what's under that attitude

girl i've always been

just keep breathin*

new beginnings*

one of me is cute, but two, though?

multiverse - i love you, in every life

𓆩♡𓆪 summary: Stories of you and Logan in other universes.

note: unless specified, all of these are oneshots.

𓆩♡𓆪 chapters:

house of m - bittersweet

logan (2017) - push and pull

worst!logan - imperfect for you

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever #i love you in every life #masterlist

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lostinlovingrevery · 2 days ago

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Indecisive

70s DOFP! Logan X Curvy! F! Reader

A/n: This got away from me.

Plot: You're indecisive about everything- and soon you become unsure about Logan. He makes sure to get rid of those doubts of yours.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only!, DUB-CON (like a lot but reader is super into it), kinda rough sex, dom! logan, oral (f! recieving), logans a total munch, doggy style, the claws come out, readers described as curvy but not super relevant to the plot?

Word Count: 3960

You weren’t sure about him.

You met Logan a few weeks ago, you bumped into each other at the local park near your apartment. One look at him made your knees weak - you had never seen a man look so good before.

Tall- much taller than you, muscular, wearing a tight black t-shirt that stretched across his chest and looked as if it would rip and he dared to flex at all. Over that, a black leather jacket, a little worn at the shoulder. Dark blue jeans, that hugged his hips and thighs, sporting a thick belt, with some interesting design that you couldn’t make out - because you couldn’t just sit and stare at his crotch the entire time. His face was very nice to look at anyway, with a sort of slicked back style and a widows peak hairstyle that was very distinctive, mutton chops going down his jawline and stopping at his chin. Pretty hazel eyes that stared right through you- an intensity that you couldn’t help but blush under.

He’s so handsome!

You had been distracted, busy staring down at a notebook that you had your arm cradling as you walked the path you were so familiar with. You were in the process of starting a business- a florist shop, and there were hundreds of things to decide. Which was unfortunate for you, since you were the most indecisive person on Earth.

What to eat for breakfast, what shoes to wear, what drink to order, what lipstick to put on,

It goes on and on, your day is constantly full of questions, comparing your choices and trying to pick the best one. Honestly it’s a wonder how you managed to get this far in life, considering you could stand in the middle of the store for eternity comparing the colors of a dress you like- unable to decide what you thought looked better on you.

Should I go to school?

Should I start a business?

Should I keep seeing him?

After you finished fumbling apologies to him, while he gave you that cute little smile that made you practically want to melt under his stare- he asked you out. It surprised you, seeing that you were a girl on a more…curvier side. It wasn’t that you were unattractive, you knew your body well and you certainly weren’t indecisive on your confidence; even if you do meticulously craft your outfit of the day to make sure you look good as possible- even if it is painstakingly long process that it takes for you to even decide your outfit… Logan though, didn’t seem like the type to go after girls like you. He seemed the type to be inclined towards thinner girls, girls that looked like super models off the runway. You didn’t hold any bitterness towards that thought, everyone had a type.

You weren’t sure about saying yes, since you merely just met him- and he, sensing your indecisiveness, gave you a time and place. The way he took charge, helped you make the decision and it displayed how obviously interested he was in seeing you again attracted you like no other.

So you showed up, you had a good time with him. He made you laugh, charmed you like no other man has. You shared your first kiss with him that night- one that you spent in your bed thinking about all night, giddy and blushing. The next few weeks went by and he would call and set up another date, and another, and another

The initiative he took turned you on like no other. His quiet assertiveness brought you a certain comfort you weren’t familiar with- the way he was sure of himself. The cocky confidence he’d bring during your conversations- it would make you laugh, the way he’d smirk and say something snarky.

It was great, until tonight. Doubts started creeping into your mind, as you picked up on little things about him. Things that screamed trouble and heartbreak. You didn’t mind the trouble, not at all. It was the heartbreak that scared you. You felt yourself falling for him, but you weren’t sure if you should let yourself. He didn’t seem like the type to want to stick around- after you heard his stories of the travels he’s had. While he certainly seemed eager to see you, he hasn’t brought up anything about becoming serious, and you haven’t slept together yet- your own personal way of screening potential lovers.

It’s not like you want to hold out on purpose- you would’ve jumped his bones the moment you met, but you’ve been burned by men just wanting to sleep around - and you did not appreciate being led on by a potential of something real, when really it was just physical.

Tonight's date with him went by, and you felt something weird- your own doubts may have been playing in. It led you to question if you should keep this going. More of being unsure of your life.

For now, you decided to put the decision on a backburner while you undressed and took a shower, letting the warm water flow over you as you attempted to plan your day tomorrow. The sound of the shower meant you didn’t hear Logan coming into your apartment.

How could he not stop by?

You were acting differently tonight, not as happy, or perky. You weren’t holding his hand as often, smiling as often. Your mind seemed to be in another world. He had the feeling, after observing your little quirk of being unsure over things, that maybe you were feeling unsure about him.

He didn’t like the feeling.

Since he met you, he was obsessed. You have captured him in every way possible. It wasn’t easy to get his attention, Logan was always looking for the next thing, something better. The most it came to relationships for him was one-night stands, one where he seduced someone with a smile and a few cheap compliments, brought her back to a cheap motel, and got his rocks off- and left before the night even ended. He had his own place but he didn’t need women who had the misfortune of encountering him trying to seek him out again, because he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything that was more than physical.

Until he met you.

God, you drove him insane. He thinks about you more than he cares to admit. Your pretty lips that curve into that smile that makes his dick twitch. Your curves, that he’s traced with his eyes so many times that he can picture you perfectly in his mind. He stared at the way your breasts bounced when you laughed, the way your hips moved when you’d walk away, the love handles that were barely prominent in your usual clothes unless you were wearing something tight, he wanted to grip them as he fucked into you hard and completely undo you. He was addicted to you and he hadn’t even gotten a taste of you yet. A true taste. Your lips were so sweet, and he’d capture you in a kiss multiple times a night- never able to get enough of the sugar high you gave him.

It wasn’t just your beauty that captivated him. You were fierce, intelligent, and very passionate. You told him all about your little business you were starting, and your time in college, you’ve gone on a tangent more times about everything ranging from politics to flowers. He loved that passion he saw in your eyes and heard in your voice, it was something he hadn’t even realized he was looking for, something that he was missing.

You’d downplay yourself more times than once, always riding about how indecisive you were. You weren’t indecisive. You were passionate. You wanted to make sure you enjoyed everything life gave you, you didn’t want to miss out. Maybe you took a little longer to decide on whether you wanted to try the blue fruity drink, or the red. Logan didn’t mind that though- it made the world slow down when you took your time. His world was rushed, he never took a moment to appreciate where he was till he was with you.

He was excited about you- which is why he never pushed you toward any more…physical connections. He knew you’d open up to him when you were ready. He just had to keep himself satisfied by getting himself off to the thought of you every night since he’d met you. How badly has he resisted the urge to rip off your pretty little dress that hugged your curves and ruin you. He knew he’ll get that chance eventually- he was arrogant like that. He was willing to take time, especially considering he still had to tell you about who he was- something he wasn’t quite sure how to approach, since it hadn’t been an issue before with his no-strings-attached lifestyle.

Seeing you pulling away from him sent him into something dark and possessive. He could see where your indecisiveness was an issue- but he refused to let it be that way. You were the best thing he’s come across in over a century, He certainly wasn’t going to let that go over some uncertainty.

He knew you wanted him. He could smell it off you every time you met up, he could see it in your eyes the way you traced over his figure, a small blush coming to your cheeks and you’d quickly look away. How’d you get flustered when he’d get closer, putting his hand on your knee and squeezing, before letting his flinger flit underneath the hem of your dress, teasing you.

He had no problem getting rid of your doubts.

You stepped out of the shower, steaming filling the bathroom, as you grabbed your robe, something silky and small, barely covering you even as you tied the robe shut. You used a towel to dry your hair, and brushed your teeth, unknowing of the man lurking in your living room- waiting for you to come out.

After you brushed your teeth, your hair- you were ready for bed. You stepped out of the bathroom, steam pouring out through the doorway into the dark hallway. You begin turning towards your bedroom when a voice reaches your ear, and sends goosebumps down your arms.

“You take a long time in there.”

You turned around with a gasp. Logan was standing in front of your door, a faint smile on his face, and a look in his eye you’re not sure was anger or lust. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans, as he stood there. You swallowed, your heart beginning to pound.

“Lo…Logan what…What are you doing here? How did you get in?” You asked, trying to hide the fear you felt beginning to rise in you.

“Wanted to see you.” He says, taking a step forward. “You rushed out tonight.”

“I…I’m sorry I was just…I was tired, long day.” You stammered. His eyes went down, tracing over you, and it occurred to you that you were barely clad in your robe. You pulled it shut around your chest area, attempting to keep yourself covered. A frown came across his face.

“Don’t do that.” He says stepping closer to you. “Don’t cover what’s mine.”

“Excuse me?” You say with a bit of disbelief. “Logan I…I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings or something but you coming in here like this is…is…”

“Is what doll?” He smirked. He was in front of you now, towering over you. You avoided looking at him, annoyed because his proximity to you was making your thighs clench together. You knew it was wrong, he practically broke into your apartment. Any other sane woman would be screaming their heads off, telling him to get out, throw things at him!

Yet the closer he stood to you, the less fear you felt, and more curiosity of what he was planning came to mind.

“Not sure what to say?” He asks a quirk of arrogance in his tone. You swallowed, and you finally looked up at him. He brought his hand up, his pointer finger tucking underneath your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He smirked. “Feeling indecisive again sweetheart?” He coos.

“Logan…”

“Feeling unsure about us?” He asks. You blink in surprise, your expression confirming his suspicions. He tuts, shaking his head, his hand slowly but firmly grabbing your face, his thumb and finger digging into the fat of your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker. It was a move of dominance you hadn’t seen from him before, and you were ashamed to say you absolutely loved it. “How about I make that decision for you?” He says in a low voice. His lips crashed onto yours in a messy and rough kiss, your hands coming up to press against his chest - you’re still unsure about pulling him closer, or pushing him away.

Before you could react, he grabbed you, his arm around your waist as he lifted you, before roughly bringing you to the carpeted floor with him ontop of you.

Holy shit

He let go of you, his hand reaching down, ripping the belt of your robe off, and the silk fell to the side, exposing you completely to him. You gasped.

“Logan!” You reached your hand out, for what you didn’t know. He grabbed it, and your other hand, pinning them above your head as he used his knees to kick your legs open, his thighs pressing against yours-keeping them spread. Your skin felt on fire, embarrassment at being exposed like this running through you, making your body shiver as Logan stared down at you, his tongue coming out to lick his lips as if he was looking down at a full course meal. You knew it was wrong- you shouldn’t let him do this, but arousal began coating your heat between your legs, you felt yourself aching for stimulation- and you couldn’t help but find yourself loving how he took charge of you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had fantasies of him taking you like this before…You just never thought that would ever happen.

“Fuck, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined…” He mutters, his eyes trailing over every inch of you. He used one hand to keep yours pinned above you, as his free hand moved to grope your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple as it hardened under his touch, making you whimper as you began to squirm under him. “Don’t act like you don’t want this sweetheart.” He looks back up at you, “You’re soaked, see?”

His hand let go of your breast, two fingers swiping through your folds, making your hips jerk up, as he chuckled, holding the two fingers up and examining the slick he collected on them. You watched with wide eyes and parted lips as he brought them to his mouth, his tongue coming and tasting you on his fingers. He let out a deep groan as he closed his eyes, sticking his fingers into his mouth and taking the rest of your essence.

“Fuck.” He hissed. He let go of your wrists, his arms going under your thighs and lifting your upper half up to his face as he was still on his knees. You yelped, your hands came down to the floor, as you attempted to make up for the awkward position he dragged you in, your thighs thrown over his shoulders as he held a death grip on your hips.

His nose pressed to your mound, taking a deep inhale of you, and you covered your mouth as your face ran red hot at the filthy action.

God, he’s filthy!

He licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit, and let out an involuntary moan. His tongue ran rough circles around your clit. Your head tipped back, your eyes rolling. He began eating you out, almost desperately, his tongue dipping into your pulsing cunt, before licking another stripe through you, and nipping at your clit. It made your hips jerk and a whine escaped you.

You couldn’t take this, the way he was munching on you like a man starved, how your lower half body was suspended in air, you had no control. You melted into him, your hand finally reaching up to grip his hair- making him groan, his eyes opening to look down at you. You felt a honey-tight feeling in the pit of your stomach, and with little control you had, attempted to grind your hips against his face. You snapped, and a heat of release ran through you, soaking his face in your fluids.

You couldn’t completely tell in your post-coitus haze, but you swear he was laughing.

You were lowered down to the carpet, thighs spread and trembling.

“The things I’m going to do to you…” You heard him mutter. You felt his hands grab you again, and flip you on your stomach. His knees kept your legs spread, lifting your ass in the air, and he leaned over your body, bracing one arm next to your head. You heard him shuffling, the clink of his belt.

You felt his tip brush through your slit and gasped.

Fuck, he’s huge

You felt his breath on your ear. “You’re so damn gorgeous darling. I’ve been obsessed with you since we met.” He says lowly, sending goosebumps through your skin. “Tell me sweetheart, are you unsure about us now?” He mutters. Your breath hitched, and you shook your head. He smirked, something devilishly, as he pushed his tip inside you. “Good.” he growls, before pushing himself inside.

You cried out, the mere size of him felt like too much as he stretched you out. “Sshh, you’re alright.” He cooed, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw, while his other braced himself on top of you. “You can take it sweet girl- fuck-” He pressed his head into yours, “You feel so good.”

Your body trembled under him, he moved his hips back, before thrusting into you slowly again, allowing you to adjust to his size. His chest pressed against your back, you could feel the complete weight of him on top of you. Not crushing you- something that felt completely safe and warm.

“Logan-” You whined, desperate for more, arching your back against him. He chuckled, a sound that shot straight through you, making you clench around him.

“I got you baby, just relax.” He mutters, before he picks up his pace, thrusting in and out of you, his hips slapping against your ass. He held onto your jaw, his nose pressing into your hair as you listened to him grunt and growl with each thrust.

He got faster, your arms stretched out, hands attempting to grip the carpet for some kind of leverage. He was going so fast you don’t even know how he managed to have the stamina, as your eyes rolled back, the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you was enough to make you go dumb and pliant. He suddenly slowed down, making deep- slow thrusts where he nearly pulled completely out, before burying himself inside you again, making you cry out. The hand cradling your jaw came up, covering your mouth to hide your noises.

“Much as I like hearing those pretty noises, don’t need the neighbors complaining darling.” He mutters. He picked his pace again, pounding into your pussy, your whole body shaking underneath him. His arm that kept him braced on the floor wrapped around your hip, his hand gripping at your love handles, angling you higher- practically folding your body in half against him.

The new angle made you feel like you were going to pass out. His cock was pounding into that special spot, making you unable to think of anything, as your body hummed with your second orgasm, approaching quickly. You began whining his name into his hand, and he grunted.

“Fuck, fuck keep saying my name.” He growled, moving his hand from your lips a bit, just so he could hear you repeating his name over and over. “Oh fuck-”

His hands released his grip on you, as they came into your view, fists slamming into the floor- and your eyes widened as your watched sharp bone-like appendages protrude from his fist.

Oh shit-

You couldn’t barely react or acknowledged anything, as the tight thread that was growing in your stomach accordance with Logans thrusts finally snapped, waves of ecstasy rolling over your body, over and over as your eyes rolled back, and Logan’s hips snapped against your ass one more time, filling you up with warm spurts of his cum. He whined and grunted, a few lazy thrusts as he continued spilling into you, before finally stopping, his head collapsing onto your shoulder.

Your heart was racing, and you could barely see straight from the explosive orgasm that ran through you, but you attempted to focus on his hands, where the sharp appendages were still out. Your hand reached out, gently touching his, and he loosened his fist as you ran your fingers over his palm. You felt him pressing kisses along your shoulder.

“You okay?” He muttered softly. You nodded, swallowing.

“You’re a mutant?”

“Yeah.” He says. That explains the stamina

You didn’t know much about them, other than the fact that the U.S government announced that they were real and a part of the population. Some people were terrified of the idea- but you simply thought nothing of it. Just cause they could do things some couldn’t didn’t mean they weren’t people either- just like Logan. “That bother you?”

“No…” You shook your head, still looking at his hand. He chuckled.

“You were quick to answer that one.”

“Nothing to be unsure about with that.” You say matter-of-factly. He leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Good.” He mutters. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet sweetheart.”

“Wait- what?”

You shrieked as he pulled out, pulling you up from the ground.

You spent the rest of the night being completely undone by him. He made sure to fuck out any doubt or questions you had about you and him- at least physically. He plans to make sure you never have to feel unsure about him ever.

Something about Logan doing what he did solidified your decision, it wasn't just how the sex was great- but the way he desperately wanted to show you he cared- that he could take care of you, that he wanted to be apart of your life. He may have acted like he was in control, but every movement, every touch, kiss, thrust- felt like he was begging for you to keep him around. There was still things to talk about- such as the mutant thing, but your connection had officially solidified, as you felt you finally made a decision you can add to your list of 'good decisions'.

The next morning, you woke up in bed, wrapped in his arms. Fatigue plagued you, and you barely could feel your legs after the positions he’d managed to put you in- positions you didn’t even know existed. He woke from your shifting, eyes looking at you with adoration and a faint smile on his face.

“Morning doll.” He greets, voice low with an edge of sleep.

“Morning Lo.” You smiled, bringing your hand to his chest.

“You hungry?”

“Yeah.” You nod. He sat up, an arm still wrapped around your shoulder as he leaned over you.

“What d’ya want for breakfast?” He asks. You looked up at him with a raised brow, reminding him of your indecisiveness and he chuckled, a small shake of his head. “Alright. Alright. How about waffles?”

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #vans daydreams #wolverine smut #logan x curvy reader #this is the first time approaching a certain kink don't judge me #i have a few others in my drafts that are sooo much worse

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