#logan howlett x reader
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i have such EXTREME drover brainrot again like i'm not okay and i might need to write for him asap before i explode. why is he so PRETTY.
#drover#hugh jackman x reader#hugh jackman#hugh jackman wolverine#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine x reader#hugh jackman smut#hugh jackman pic#australia#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you
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my blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters by the way so if you voted trump or just lick his ass unfollow me thank you kindly
#joel miller x reader#frank castle x reader#logan howlett x reader#bucky barnes x reader#tommy miller x reader#ellie williams x reader#abby anderson x reader#frankie morales x reader#i am not american but my heart breaks for all who are impacted by this
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oh to curl up in logan’s arms as he hides you from the rest of the world 🫂
any version of him 🫂
#:(((( can he just take me in his arms and keep me there#bc everything is overwhelming and tiring#he would make everything right#🫂🫂🫂🫂 wish he was here#logan howlett#wolverine#hugh jackman#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#old man!logan#deadpool and wolverine
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𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒔!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓
• +18 minors do not interact. smut without plot, Outdoors sex, fluff, kissing, size kink, established relationship, little thigh humping, pet names etc.
𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
divider by @anitalenia 🤍
“C’on sweetheart.. m’gonna be late” your back gently rubbed against the tree bark as you captured your husbands lips in a soft kiss. You moaned on his lips possibly making him harder than he already was “Don’t care..” you pouted opening his vest and a coat revealing his veiny arms. “Don’t make me bend you over here princess” he bit your jaw playfully wrapping his arms around you coaxing you against his chest. “Want you Lo..” you whined rubbing your thighs together. “Whatcha want?” His soft eyes darkened nostrils flaring smelling your arousal. Pushing your legs apart with his knee so you ended up rubbing your sweet little cunt on his thigh. It wasn’t enough friction you wanted him right inside of you.
“Been so long.. want- want you” you babbled stupidly, inhaling his manly scent getting so worked up. Your nipples pebbled under your dress making him moisten his lips “Yeah? Very long.. I’m workin over here sneakin away to have a little time with ya..” he smiled circling your clit with his thumb making you gasp for breath. “Mmmm!” You blushed eagerly opening his belt and his jeans. “Fuck—you makin a mess kitten” he sighed full of need for your sweet pussy. “One of the reasons I married you little one.. you’re a such a slut for your husband” he picked you up in his arms backing you up against the wide tree, you clung to his shoulders hiding your face in his neck cock drunk and you weren’t even filled by him yet. Jeans and boxers falling to his ankles— he found your little cunt blindly with your panties aside pushing right in you. Nodding rapidly “so needy for you”
You gasped and trembled by the sheer size of your husband no matter how many times you’ve taken him. “Daddy..” you mewled. His hand lied flat on the tree the other arm held you right under your thighs. His hips started on slower pace but the moment he heard his men cutting down more trees, and the chainsaws in the distance he buried his face against your tits groaning at the smell and feel of you. “Fuck fuck fuck..” grunting possessively gripping you in his hold picking up the speed sliding in and out of you pounding you quicker. You cried out against his neck placing your hands on his butt to pull him even closer wrapping your legs around his waist “I can’t.. can’t.. last” you shut your eyes tipping your head back against the tree your body jolting upwards rapidly as your husband started to pound your little cunt silly. Your wetness allowing him an easy slide but god your moans could be heard by his entire work crew you didn’t care. “Daddy! Daddy!” You babbled again as broken whimpers and mewls fell out of your lips, Logan was feral watching your gorgeous tits nearly jumping out of your dress in his face slapping his heavy balls against your ass by delivering you quick strokes filling you out repeatedly. Belly tight with warmth which turned to heat and it pooled in your pussy clenching around his veiny cock. “Ughhhh” you groaned grabbing his thick mane with one of your hands and Logan moaned on your lips kissing you brushing his tongue over yours. You both chased your orgasms and soon you made a mess on his cock, your cunt was then filled with his cream to the fullest moments later. “Fuck fuck fuckkk” he whimpered out hiding his sweaty face against your neck.
After calming down for few moments you spend time kissing, his kisses were made of everything woman needed in her life and you clung to him keeping him warm inside of you. “Can’t stay princess.. I’m on the job” he chuckled and you pouted again pretending like he just haven’t rearranged your brain in your skull. “Already? M’gonna miss you husband..” you kissed his forehead. “Me too bub” he sighed not wanting to part away from you but he had to get back to work. Saying goodbye to him was always hard but you were all happy because in the evening you’d repeat this all in your bed.
After all… Logan was an insatiable lover.
#origins logan howlett#logan howlett x female reader#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett#logan xmen#hugh jackman#hugh jackman fanfic#hugh jackman fluff#hugh jackman x reader#hugh jackman x y/n#hugh jackman x you#hugh jackman x female reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine xmen#the wolverine#wolverine#james logan howlett#marvel fanfiction#x men fanfiction#x men#logan x reader#logan x you#logan wolverine#logan howlett xmen#wolverine x f!reader
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hii !
i saw ur post about fluffy Logan oneshots so i have one :D if this is not what ur looking for, pls feel free to ignore !!
maybe touch starved reader who constantly clings to Logan and he asks about it and reader gets nervous that they pushed a boundary and stop only for Logan to be like “wtf no i love when u cling to me, pls keep doing it”
no pressure at all, have a nice evening / morning !!
A Soft Place to Land
a/n: Hi Anon! Thank you for your request. I am so sorry this has taken so long, life went kind of crazy for a second, but it's sorting itself out now! I hope you enjoy the drabble <3
Logan Howlett x TouchStarved!GN!Reader
CW: some mentions of jealousy, reader seems pretty anxious, just some good ole' fluff
Watching how Scott and Jean held each other, or even how the kids would comfort one another, you could feel jealousy curling around your mind at the absentminded tenderness in every touch. You’d spend countless nights awake, craving the touch of another while you wrapped your arms around yourself, fingers pressing into your skin just to feel something.
It gnawed at you, quiet and constant, slipping into the quiet spaces of your mind when you were alone. You’d close your eyes and imagine what it might feel like to rest your head on someone’s shoulder, to let the warmth of another’s touch seep into your skin and quiet the restlessness within you. It was always fleeting, a memory of something you've only had in fleeting moments.
Then there was Logan. The brooding, gruff exterior everyone seemed to shy away from became your refuge. It started as fleeting touches, knuckles grazing against his when you walked, shoulders bumping when you sat together. Before you knew it, you found yourself constantly lingering in his presence, your touch becoming more purposeful. Tracing shapes into the palm of his hand during long meetings or leaning on his shoulder after a mission, his head resting on top of yours. It was rare for you to be seen far apart, the school knew you were bound to be nearby if Logan was around.
You’re not sure when it started, the constant burn beneath your skin only satisfied by his touch. You started finding ways to get him to touch you, asking for help with your hair or applying bandaids. Now, you stood before Logan with a bracelet in hand, feigning an excuse of needing help to put it on. You didn’t miss the way Logan notched a brow at your request, eyeing the bracelet he knows you’ve put on yourself countless times. You fiddled with the jewelry in your palm, gaze nervously darting around his face as a familiar pit forms in your stomach at his hesitation. A heartbeat later, Logan opens the door wide for you to enter, knuckles grazing as you pass him.
Logan’s fingers daftly inspect the jewelry before draping it over your wrist, each graze of his fingers deepening the blush on your cheeks. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and from the smirk on Logan’s face, you had a feeling he could hear how it quickened.
“Why you always around me, bub?” Logan asks nonchalantly as he clasps the bracelet, fingers still ghosting over your arm.
You swallow, feeling the words catch in your throat as you search for a response. You hadn’t considered Logan noticing, much less him asking you outright. The question hangs in the air as his eyes search your face, something curious and unguarded in them. You struggle to find a response that doesn’t make you sound desperate and scare him off.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to,” You murmur, taking your arm away from his touch, clutching it to your chest as if to slow your racing heart. You look away, face burning beneath the weight of his gaze. “I’ll stop. Must be kinda creepy, constantly hovering around you.” You force a weak laugh.
A beat passes, the crushing silence presses against your chest, wrapping around you until each breath feels like a struggle. When you gather the courage to meet his eyes again, his expression has softened, the usual guarded look slipping. He shifts closer, bringing his face level with yours, and the intensity in his gaze holds you captive.
“Don’t do that,” Logan’s breath fans your face with each word, mouth inches from yours. “Ain’t nobody said I didn’t like it.” His words are rough, each one lifting a weight from your chest. His eyes dart away to study the floor as his cheeks flush a deep crimson. “Ain’t used to people hanging around this much but… I don’t mind so much with you.”
A pause before he shrugs as if trying to shake off the weight of his words. “Guess you don’t bother me as much as most folks do.” Logan straightens but doesn’t step back. His face remained aloof, but his cheeks were still rosy as vulnerability oozed from his gaze. “So quit worrying about ‘creeping me out.’ You’re good.”
Logan’s kind words curled around your heart, a smile gracing your lips as you look at him. “So what I’m hearing is you're saying I can bug you even more now?” You joke, nudging his shoulder.
He scoffs, dramatically rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t push it, bub.”
---
Likes and reblogs are appreciated :)
#logan howlett#wolverine#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#xmen#deadpool and wolverine#hugh jackman#logan wolverine#fanfiction#comfort#touch starved reader
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Not to be the little gremlin obsessed with Chappell Roan BUT… reader thinking Logan is too cool to want a proper relationship with them, so when things get physical they insist things are just “casual” in order to protect themselves from getting hurt. But secretly you’re in love with each other, so honestly, neither of you want things to be casual at all… (mutual pining my beloved) please & thank you!! Love you!
ahh hi hi avo I LOVE this song, and this request, and you - I could so see this being a situation that Logan and reader find themselves in. I had so much fun writing this, I hope you like it! (I added a couple winks to the lyrics as well.) 💖 thank you so much for sending this to me!!!
casual | variant!logan howlett x f!reader
1.2k | posessive!logan, fwb(???), use of alcohol, mutual pining, references to oral sex and PiV.
It doesn’t matter that your heart flips when you look at him. It’s Logan. It’s just casual.
It certainly feels like a dream, watching your worlds collide.
The heft of Logan’s palm fitting into your friends as he shakes their hand - the five of you squeezed into your usual booth in the corner of the bar.
You’d say the past couple weeks had seemed that way, as well. A late-night dose of bravery spiraling into something so raw and intense and real, that you feel like you could choke on it.
Even now, there’s heat in your cheeks as your eyes flick his way. Something stirring in your chest at the way his other arm slings across the back of the booth almost possessively.
But like all dreams, there comes a moment where you have to wake up.
Because you know it’s not.
Because you know your feelings aren’t requited. How could they be, when it’s Logan you’re talking about?
A legend.
A lone wolf.
Someone important, someone whose name carries a weight. Who saved the world, from what Wade tells you.
And you’re - you.
So even if you know what he looks like beneath that flannel, know what his mouth feels like when it presses against yours - what he sounds like, when he comes - you know that this is nothing.
It’s casual. A distraction, for both of you.
And if that’s how it has to be, then you’ll do your best to show him you’re cool with it.
You just hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon. It had been a genuine offer, your “you wanna come with?” when the hour rolled around for your weekly trivia night.
Not thinking his head would cock to the side. The look he’d give you - that arched brow, as his fingers splayed out across your bare hip. Still crowded together on your couch, sweat-dewed.
The “sure, sweetheart” that slipped out.
And now you’re introducing him as your friend - that quick history you’ve perfected - rattling off the “you know, Wade from work’s roommate” even though Wade didn’t work at the dealership anymore.
He had made enough of an impression that none of your friends had forgotten.
And you ignore the bitter jolt in your stomach, when all Logan does is hum.
You think you must have assumed right.
He doesn’t correct you.
Logan quickly solidifies himself as an asset to the team. He gets a lot of the history questions that you’ve always struggled with. A shy quirk of his lips when your friends cheer, and you get swept along with it.
His hand ending up on your thigh along the way. Squeezing, when you chime in. Almost as if forgetting - it’s easy to, when you’re having fun like this.
A low rasp in your ear, when the host takes a break.
“Lemme get you another.”
You can only nod, as he eases out - taking your glass with him.
It only takes a second, before MJ’s hand slaps down on yours.
“That’s Logan?” She hisses - leaning forward, “The one who-”
“Yes.” You cut her off, ignoring the sideways glance her boyfriend gives you.
You never should have told her about that.
Had a hard enough time climbing into your car without thinking about it, yourself - the way he had man-handled you in the passenger seat. Thighs thrown over broad shoulders.
Fingers twined in his hair, as he made you moan in the dark parking garage. Too eager to make it up to your apartment.
She frowns, the words petering out, “But I thought-”
Your teeth worry at your lower lip.
“Yeah. Me too.” You sigh.
MJ knows how much you like him.
Really like him - butterflies, and everything. How it’s been years since you felt this way - slipping from you during that rushed phone call at 6 am the morning after your first night together.
Her eyebrows raise, and it’s a look you know well.
“It’s, you know.” Your hand waves, “It’s casual. It’s-”
It’s easier, this way.
Maybe if you keep repeating it, it won’t hurt as much when he moves on.
The look she shoots you is one of pity, just as a drink is set down in front of you.
Your teeth clicking against each other as the words are swallowed. Forcing a smile as Logan slips back in the booth next to you.
The next round starts a moment after, and it’s a welcome reprieve.
You miss the way his eyes narrow, as yours fix firmly on scorecard in front of you.
But you don’t miss the way his hands stay folded on top of the table, for the rest of the night.
You suppose he must have remembered where he was.
“You wanna come up?”
He lingers outside your apartment door, hands jammed into his pockets. That look from the bar is back - all dark, narrowed eyes.
A low sound in his throat, close to a scoff.
“That what you want, sweetheart?”
Your eyebrows raise, “Yeah. I do, I mean-, that’s what we usually do, right?”
He’s spent just about every night at your apartment. His things still scattered across your room. A leather jacket slung across the chair that’s tucked against your vanity.
Logan’s lips twist at the edges, eyes dropping.
“Suppose we do.” Those hands slip from his pocket, crossing over his chest, “Back when I thought we knew what we were doing. But now…”
His head shakes. A tick in his jaw.
Your stomach drops.
“What do you mean?”
Logan huffs, “The bar, baby. Is that how you really feel?”
A step closer, until he’s caging you in. Voice dropping, rough and low - near gritted out.
“Does this,” His fingers flick between your chest and his, “feel casual to you?”
Your heartbeat gallops behind your ribs.
“I thought-,” You manage, “Thought that’s what you wanted.”
He’s too close, now. The dip of his head, those eyes burning in their shades of brown and gold.
“Now, why would you think that?”
You swallow, “Because you’re you, and I’m-”
“You’re?” He prompts, but you go silent.
A sigh, when your head dips.
Unable to say it out loud.
“Driving me crazy all night, you know that?” He rasps, “Giving me those looks. Calling me your friend, when we both know your mouth was around my cock this morning.”
A low rumble in his throat, “When I still taste like you.”
Your breath hitches, as his hand thumbs at your jaw, tilting it up.
“Lemme ask you again.” His mouth is close enough now to ghost against yours, “Is that how you really feel?”
Your head shakes.
“Wanna be yours.”
It’s breathed out, just as he kisses you.
His body pressing flush, as your hands twine around his neck. A palm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he deepens it.
Desire thrumming to life inside you, washing out the dregs of insecurity that you’ve been carrying this whole time. Melting them away completely with the hungry sweep of his tongue, the way he swallows your soft moan.
There’s a flash of white when he finally leans back, with the curve of his lips.
“Good.”
His hand closes around the knob. A rough twist, as his another arm wraps around your waist.
Walking you backwards, into the dark.
“The let me show you exactly how I feel.”
thank you so much, again!! 💖
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlet smut#wolverine x reader#logan howlett fanfiction#requests#avocado-writes#eupheme answers#xmen x reader
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OH MY GOD IM IN LOVE
I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)
pair: logan howlett x fem!reader
wc: 4.1k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.
nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!
divider by angel @saradika-graphics!
it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...
The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.
It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.
It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.
He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.
Apparently, he was wrong.
Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.
His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.
By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.
He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.
The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.
"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.
Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.
You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.
Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.
You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.
Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.
The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.
Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent.
The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.
“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”
Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.
The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.
You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”
Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.
“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”
You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.
“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”
The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.
You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.
Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.
You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.
In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.
He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.
You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.
“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.
“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.
Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.
“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”
“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts.
Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.
He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.
Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning.
“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”
The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.
Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.
Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren��s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more.
He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.
Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you.
It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved.
The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.
His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.
“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure.
The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.
Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.
The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.
He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.
Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.
Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”
Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.
Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.
But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.
He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.
“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.
The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.
“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."
He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.
Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.
Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.
Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist.
He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.
You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.
He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.
“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.
You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.
With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.
“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”
Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”
The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain.
The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.
With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.
He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.
Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer.
Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.
Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.
He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.
“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.
Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”
He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours.
The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.
Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.
Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.
It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.
Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.
His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.
Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow.
Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.
“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”
The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.
“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”
Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.
He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.
“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.
The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.
You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.
He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.
“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”
"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."
A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest.
Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.
“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”
Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt.
Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.
He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.
He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.
Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.
He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.
“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.
“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.
“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.
It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.
Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”
Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.
He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.
And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.
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#maybe i'm starting my period soon#idfk#match my freak y'all#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fic
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Expressing His Love - Logan Howlett: the one with how he shows his love for you
─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x wife!reader
─➭ content warning: fluff, logan in love
─➭ take a walk in the greenhouse (master list)
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How does Logan Howlett express his love?
He listens to you rant about the plants you’re currently watering while in the greenhouse. You talk about the plants as if they were human and that some need the care and attentiveness like babies need.
He stops what he’s doing to acknowledge your presence as you walk into the room. He’d be talking mid-conversation to greet you with the softest look that's ever to come across his face. He would walk over to you and give you a kiss on your cheek. Even passing one another in the hall on your way to class, he’ll give you a quick kiss on the cheek. .
He holds terms of endearment for you and you only. Calling you: darling, sweetheart, sweets, baby…
He subtly communicates with you without words. He looks for you in crowded rooms and silently asks if you’re okay. Based on the expression of your face he’s either quick to comfort you or gives you a nod of understanding that you’re okay.
He holds your hands against his chest to make you feel his heartbeat. He loves feeling you run your hands up and down his body as you talk about your day.
He picks you up by your waist to make you wrap your legs around his torso while he covers your face with light kisses here and there when he comes home.
He places you on the bathroom sink to brush your teeth or to help him trim his beard. He closes his eyes under your gentle touch as he soothingly rubs circles on your thighs with his thumb.
He locks you in his arms in the morning to keep you in bed. He loves to hear your laughs as he buries his face into your neck knowing that it tickles you.
He pulls you by the waist when you walk away from him without giving him a kiss. As soon as you’re close as possible, he cups the back of your head and takes your breath away with a deep kiss.
He spreads his legs open just wide enough to let you sit on one of his thighs while he sits under the stars in the yard. He hums softly at the feeling of your fingers running through the back of his neck and through his hair.
He whispers that he loves you every time he kisses you.
That’s how Logan Howlett expresses his love.
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#logan howlett x reader#james logan howlett#logan x professor!reader#wolverine x female reader#wolverine x reader#x men movies#logan howlet x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett x you#james howlett#logan wolverine#worst wolverine#wolverine#x men wolverine#x men#logan howlett fanfiction#wolverine x you#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine fanart
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i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1900 - with you i'm free
chapter summary: Logan meets you again in a small town in Pennsylvania. Only this time, you are married to another man, but your marriage is far from perfect.
word count: 11.4k+
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: this is a bit darker than the other chapters, past and future, so this'll probably be a 'one off'. please read the tags! the domestic violence isn't described too heavily, but there are still some descriptions and scenes involving it. you've been warned!
warnings/tags: angst, mentions of brushing hair, outdated mindsets on women, domestic violence, bruises, cheating, blood, character death
series masterlist - chapter 2 → chapter 4
Logan found himself in a small town in Pennsylvania 20 years later. Victor was doing who knows what, he wasn’t sure if he even cared, so he was alone, once again.
Coal mining was the primary job in this town, so he found himself doing just that. After work, the guys would go to a nearby bar and get drunk, go back home, and repeat it all over again.
This was his second week here, and the guys finally learned that he only came along to do one thing- drink.
You walked into the dimly lit bar, the smell of tobacco and cheap liquor hanging heavy in the air. The men, mostly miners from the town, were crowded around tables, drinking and laughing loudly after a long day of work. The sound of clinking glasses and rough voices filled the room, but your eyes were drawn to the man sitting at the bar, quiet and distant.
He didn’t look like the others—he wasn’t laughing, wasn’t part of the group. He just sat there, nursing a glass of whiskey, his dark eyes focused on the amber liquid as if it held answers to questions he wasn’t ready to ask. Something about him felt familiar, though you couldn’t place why.
You hadn’t intended to come inside. George was already drunk somewhere in the back, and you knew what that would mean when he got home. But something pulled you toward the bar, toward him. You made your way over, hesitating for just a moment before slipping onto the stool beside him.
“You new in town?” you asked, your voice soft but cutting through the noise around you.
The man didn’t look at you right away, but his hand tightened slightly around the glass. His jaw clenched, as if the sound of your voice had struck something deep inside him. Slowly, he turned his head, and when his eyes met yours, the world seemed to tilt for a moment.
It was like a punch to the gut, a shock that ran through both of you, though you couldn’t understand why. You had never met him before, but his eyes... those eyes. Dark, haunted, and yet filled with something familiar, something you couldn’t explain.
Logan stared at you, his mind racing. It couldn’t be. But it was. You were here, sitting right next to him, alive. Different, yet the same. His chest tightened, the memories flooding back—your face, your smile, your laugh. The way you had slipped away from him, twice now.
He hadn’t expected to see you again. Not after the last time. But here you were, as real as the glass in his hand.
“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended. “Just passing through.”
You tilted your head slightly, curious about the stranger beside you. “Passing through? Not many people come here unless they’re looking to stay a while.”
Logan’s eyes flicked to you again, lingering this time. It was you, all right. Same voice, same damn spark. He could feel his heart pounding, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he should just get up and walk away. He didn’t know if he could handle this—losing you again.
“I’m not lookin’ to stay,” he said, taking a long sip of his drink, hoping it would calm the storm inside him.
You smiled faintly, noticing how closed-off he seemed. “Seems like you’re fitting in already, though,” you joked, nodding toward the men in the back. “That’s my husband back there, George. One of the miners.”
Logan’s jaw tightened at the word ‘husband,’ though he didn’t know why it hit him so hard. Of course, you’d have a life. It was always like this. But that didn’t make it any easier.
“Is that right?” he replied, not really asking. He glanced toward the group of men, catching sight of George, loud and drunk, waving his glass around like he owned the place. A man like that didn’t deserve you. But Logan stayed silent.
“Yeah,” you said softly, looking down at your hands. “He’s… something.”
There was a heaviness in your voice, something that told Logan more than your words ever could. He recognized that tone—the one you used when you were trying to hide the truth, trying to make things seem better than they were.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Logan just stared at his drink, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now. You were married. You had a life. He didn’t belong here. But he couldn’t just walk away. Not again.
“Y/N.” The sound of your name from his lips was barely a whisper, but it felt like it echoed through the bar. Your head snapped up, eyes wide.
“How… how do you know my name?” you asked, frowning in confusion. He hadn’t asked, and you hadn’t introduced yourself.
Logan cursed inwardly, realizing his slip. He hadn’t meant to say it, but your name had come so naturally, like it always did. “I, uh… heard someone call you that when I came in,” he lied, quickly looking away. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”
You blinked, but before you could question him further, George’s booming voice interrupted.
“Y/N!” he shouted, stumbling toward you. “What’re you doin’ at the bar? Get over here!”
You flinched slightly, your body tensing at the sound of his voice. Logan noticed immediately, his eyes darkening as he glanced between you and the drunk man. He didn’t like the way George looked at you, the way he called for you like he owned you.
“I should go,” you muttered, standing up quickly, the warmth between you and Logan fading as you stepped away. “It was nice meeting you…?”
“Logan,” he said, his voice low. “Name’s Logan.”
You smiled faintly again, nodding. “Logan. Well, take care.”
He watched you walk away, his chest tight with a mix of emotions he couldn’t put into words. This wasn’t fair. Not to him, not to you. But life had never been fair, had it?
As George draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into the group with a roughness that made Logan’s blood boil, he clenched his fists under the bar. He wanted to stand up, walk over there, and tear that man’s arm off. But he stayed where he was, the ring in his pocket feeling heavier than ever. The ring he never got to give you.
You were gone again, and Logan was left with the bitter taste of whiskey and the familiar ache of loss.
---
George never really allowed you to do much, he wanted you to be the ‘perfect wife’ and the ‘perfect mother’, but he always said that last part to you with such hatred.
Some nights, while you silently cried yourself to sleep, you wondered if you were broken, and that maybe you deserved it. Not ever getting pregnant, having an abusive husband- not that it was rare, most of the guys’ wives went through the same things too.
One day, you were out doing errands, getting some things to make George his favorite dinner in hopes you wouldn’t end up with another bruise on your wrist like yesterday, when you saw him. Logan, from a few nights ago.
He was smoking a cigar against a brick building; he should be at work with the rest of the men.
You paused, your breath catching for a moment as you saw him. Logan. He looked out of place, leaning against the wall like he didn’t belong in this time or this town. His eyes, sharp even from a distance, locked onto yours the second you stepped out of the store. It was like he knew you’d be there, as if he had been waiting.
You hesitated, then made your way toward him, the worn handle of the basket digging into your palm as you gripped it tightly.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” you asked softly, your voice carrying just enough over the sound of the bustling street.
Logan took a long drag from the cigar, his eyes narrowing slightly, and shrugged. “Took a break. Figured I needed some air.”
You shifted awkwardly, glancing around before lowering your voice. “If George finds out you’re not working…”
He scoffed, the sound rough, almost amused. “George ain’t my boss.”
His words hung in the air, and you knew he was right. George might run things at home, but out here, Logan didn’t answer to anyone. You, on the other hand… your life was different.
Logan’s eyes flicked down to your wrist, where the bruise from yesterday’s outburst was still visible, even though you’d tried to hide it with long sleeves. His expression darkened instantly, the casual air gone in an instant.
“He do that?” His voice was low, almost a growl.
You swallowed, tugging the sleeve down further. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “I just—George gets frustrated sometimes.”
Logan pushed off the wall, stepping closer, the smell of smoke and leather surrounding you. He was close now, too close, and you felt your heart quicken—not in fear, but in something else entirely.
“Frustrated?” Logan repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “That what you call it?”
You didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really. What were you supposed to say? That it was normal? That the other wives had it worse? The words died in your throat, and instead, you turned your head, focusing on the basket in your hand. “I should get going.”
But Logan didn’t move, didn’t let you slip away that easily. “You don’t have to put up with that, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice softer now. His hand brushed your arm, barely a touch, but you felt it. Felt it everywhere.
Your breath hitched, and you looked up at him, finding those dark, intense eyes watching you closely. “I… I should get home,” you said again, but the words lacked conviction this time.
Logan didn’t argue, but the look on his face told you that he wasn’t letting this go. “I’ll walk with you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.
You didn’t protest as he fell into step beside you. The two of you walked in silence for a while, your steps in sync, even though neither of you said a word. It was like that night in the bar—the unspoken connection, the weight of something you couldn’t quite name hanging between you. But this time, there was no crowd, no drunken laughter. Just you and him, and the quiet tension that seemed to grow with every step.
When you reached the edge of your street, you stopped. “You don’t have to walk me the whole way,” you murmured, glancing toward your house, where George’s silhouette was already moving around inside.
Logan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked at you, his gaze lingering on the bruise again before his eyes met yours. “You ever need someone to talk to,” he said quietly, “you know where to find me.”
Your heart clenched at the offer, at the way he said it like he meant it. You nodded, unsure of what else to do, and turned to leave.
But as you stepped away, his hand brushed yours again, just for a second. It was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder that there was something here—something neither of you fully understood but couldn’t deny.
You walked inside, feeling his presence behind you even after the door closed, knowing that things had just shifted, that something had begun. And it scared you. Not because of George, not because of what it might mean if you were caught—but because of how much you wanted it. How much you wanted him.
---
Over the next few days, Logan stayed close. You saw him more often—sometimes at the store, sometimes on the street—but always watching, always aware. He didn’t push, didn’t say much. But his presence was a constant, a quiet offer of protection that you hadn’t asked for but found yourself relying on.
It was late one evening when it finally happened. George had been out drinking again, and when he came home, it was worse than usual. You flinched as his hand caught your wrist, yanking you toward him as he slurred something about dinner not being ready on time.
You would’ve left the house if you could, but you couldn’t. Not when George was glaring at you like that, his drunken eyes wild with the sort of rage that had become all too familiar. You knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. It wasn’t new—this quiet dread that wrapped itself around your throat, choking off your breath. Running had never worked before, and by now, you had learned there was no use in trying.
George's grip on your wrist tightened painfully as he muttered something under his breath. The way he yanked you close made your heart race, not out of fear, but from the exhaustion of enduring it. He wasn’t done with his tirade—his words slurred together, complaining about dinner, the house, everything. It didn’t matter. Nothing you did ever seemed to be enough.
As his fist balled around the fabric of your dress, you stared blankly at the floor, your mind drifting elsewhere, anywhere but here. To the street outside, to the market, to Logan. The quiet man who’d appeared in your life without explanation. You didn’t know why, but when you thought of him, you felt something different—something dangerous but soothing all the same. A flicker of rebellion, of hope, that you hadn’t felt in so long.
George shoved you toward the kitchen table, grumbling about the cold food, about you being lazy, about anything he could think of. You stumbled, catching yourself on the edge of the table, but didn’t say a word. You never did, not when it got like this.
But Logan… he had noticed. He had noticed the bruises, the way you flinched when someone raised their voice, the way you avoided eye contact. He wasn’t like the other men in town. He wasn’t one to turn a blind eye. You remembered his intense gaze lingering on your wrist, the bruise that you couldn’t quite hide. You remembered the way he had spoken to you softly, almost like he cared.
That thought gave you strength now, as George barked another order, telling you to clean up the dishes. Your body moved mechanically, but your mind stayed somewhere else. You could almost feel Logan’s hand brushing against yours again, the briefest touch when he’d walked you home the other night. It had been so subtle, but it had sent a jolt through you—a reminder that there were still things you could feel, still things you could want.
The night dragged on, just as it always did, but when George finally passed out in his chair, snoring heavily, you slipped outside. The cool night air hit your skin, and for a moment, you just stood there, breathing it in. You weren’t going far. Just a few minutes of peace. Just enough to remind yourself that you were still alive.
You walked slowly down the empty street, your eyes scanning the shadows. You didn’t mean to, but your feet led you toward the alley where Logan had been smoking that day. It was a habit now, searching for him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.
And then, there he was. Leaning against the same wall, his broad figure half-hidden by the dim light of the streetlamp. His cigar glowed faintly in the dark, and as soon as he saw you, he straightened, eyes narrowing with concern.
“Y/N,” Logan said softly, stepping toward you. His voice was rough but gentle in the stillness of the night. “What’re you doin’ out here?”
You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Your throat felt tight, and your chest ached with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, you just walked closer, until you were standing right in front of him, your head tipped back slightly to meet his gaze.
Logan’s eyes flickered over your face, taking in every detail—the bruise that had started to fade but was still visible on your wrist, the exhaustion that weighed down your every movement. He didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t need to. He knew.
Without a word, Logan reached out, his hand cupping the back of your neck in a way that was more comforting than anything you’d felt in years. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him. Just for a moment.
“Y/N, you don’t have to stay there,” he murmured, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Not with him.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, the truth of his words cutting deeper than anything else. You didn’t want to stay, you didn’t. But leaving wasn’t as easy as it sounded. George was… dangerous. You didn’t know what he would do if you tried to leave him. And besides, where would you even go? You had nothing. No money, no family. Just an empty house that felt more like a prison with every passing day.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your own admission.
Logan’s grip tightened slightly, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to help, wanted to tear you away from that life, but he was fighting something inside himself too.
“You always got me,” Logan said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “Always.”
The words hung in the air between you, heavy and full of meaning. You didn’t know what to say. The part of you that was practical screamed that you couldn’t rely on him, that you shouldn’t get attached. But the other part, the part that had been buried deep beneath years of heartache, wanted to believe him. Wanted to fall into him, to take whatever comfort he could offer.
Before you could stop yourself, you reached up, your hand trembling slightly as you rested it on his chest. You felt his heart beating under your palm, steady and strong. Logan’s breath hitched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. He never did.
“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet street. “I don’t know what to do.”
He let out a slow breath, his forehead resting against yours now, his warm breath mingling with yours. His free hand came up, his thumb brushing your cheek softly, tracing the path of an unshed tear.
“You don’t have to decide tonight,” he said gently, his lips so close to yours that it took everything in you not to close the distance. “But whatever you decide… I’m not lettin’ you go through this alone. Not again.”
Your heart ached at his words—his promise. The unspoken connection between you felt stronger than ever, and before you knew it, you were closing that distance, your lips brushing against his in a hesitant, tender kiss.
Logan froze for half a second, but then his arms were around you, pulling you closer as if he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he could remember. His lips were rough, but his kiss was gentle, full of restraint. You could feel the years of longing behind it, the pain of lifetimes lived and lost, but also the desire—the need that neither of you could ignore any longer.
When you finally pulled back, breathless and trembling, Logan’s eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice ragged, his forehead still resting against yours. “This ain’t right. You’re… you’re married.”
“I know,” you said, your voice barely more than a breath. “But I… I don’t care anymore.”
Logan’s grip on you tightened for a moment, like he was trying to fight it, but then he cursed softly under his breath and kissed you again, this time with more desperation, more need. His hands tangled in your hair, his lips claiming yours in a way that made it clear this wasn’t something either of you could stop now.
And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to.
---
The next few days blurred together, a dangerous mix of stolen moments and whispered promises. Logan was always there, watching over you, his touch lingering on your skin long after you parted. You knew it was wrong, knew that it would only lead to more heartache, but you couldn’t stop. He had become your anchor, your escape from a life you couldn’t bear anymore.
It wasn’t long before you were meeting him after dark, slipping out of the house when George was too drunk to notice. The kisses became longer, the touches more urgent.
Soon, it wasn’t just nights you were seeing him. It was after George left for work, during Logan’s lunch breaks, or anytime he could sneak away from the mine. You’d meet in the same alley, or sometimes he’d find you waiting in a small park just outside town. The secrecy of it all—the sneaking around, the stolen moments—it was reckless, but neither of you could stop.
Logan wasn’t the kind of man who talked much, but the way he looked at you, the way he held you—like you were the only thing keeping him grounded—it said enough. His hands were always gentle, so different from George’s, even though you could feel the strength behind them. That raw, unyielding strength that was so uniquely his.
One afternoon, Logan met you in the small clearing just past the main street. It was a rare moment when George was working late, giving you a little more time than usual. You leaned against the large oak tree, your back pressed into the rough bark, and waited. It wasn’t long before Logan’s figure appeared in the distance, his broad shoulders tense, eyes scanning the area out of habit.
As soon as he spotted you, his shoulders seemed to relax, and he made his way over, his footsteps heavy but quiet in the dirt. When he got close enough, you smiled softly, your fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress, a nervous habit you’d picked up over the last few weeks.
“Thought I’d lost you for a minute there,” you teased, keeping your voice light, though there was a real fear under the surface. Every time you saw him, there was a tiny part of you that worried it might be the last.
Logan gave a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not that easy to lose me, Y/N.”
You looked up at him, trying to read what was going on in his head. He seemed… tense, more so than usual. You could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.
“You alright?” you asked, your voice softening as you stepped closer, close enough to touch him, but not quite daring to yet.
Logan’s gaze flickered down to you, and for a moment, you saw something in his eyes—something old, something heavy. But he shook his head, as if brushing it off, and reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, though you could tell he wasn’t. He was never fine.
You reached out, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart under your palm. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Logan.”
He stared at you for a long moment, the silence stretching between you, before he finally spoke. “It’s just… this,” he said, his voice low, almost pained. “I don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”
You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m already hurt,” you whispered, and for the first time, you felt the full weight of those words. The bruises, the fear, the nights spent lying awake, wondering if George would snap—it had become your normal, and you hated it.
Logan’s expression didn’t change much, but his jaw clenched, a flicker of something dark flashing behind his eyes. He stood still, his hands loose at his sides, and for a second you thought maybe you’d gone too far—that maybe admitting this would scare him away, make him walk off into the night and leave you standing there alone.
But he didn’t. He never did.
Logan exhaled slowly through his nose, the sound quiet but loaded with restrained anger, like a simmering fire just barely held in check. His hand—rough and warm—reached out to settle on your arm, fingers curling gently around your elbow. It was a simple touch, but it grounded you in a way that nothing else did.
“I’ll handle it,” Logan said, voice low, rough. His words were more than a statement—they were a promise, weighted with meaning you couldn’t quite untangle.
Your heart skipped at the way he said it, quiet but firm, like the solution was already decided, and there was no point in questioning it.
“You can’t,” you whispered, not because you didn’t believe him, but because you knew how dangerous George could be. And if Logan went to him—if George found out about the two of you…
Logan’s thumb brushed once along your forearm, slow and deliberate. “I’ve handled worse,” he muttered, gaze never leaving yours. There was a sharpness in his eyes now, something fierce. You didn’t know what he’d been through in his life—just that it was far more than you could imagine.
A part of you wanted to tell him not to get involved, but the other part—the part of you that had been breaking under George’s hand for years—wanted to let Logan do exactly what he was offering.
You bit your lip. “If he finds out…” You trailed off, but Logan understood. Of course he did.
He stepped in closer, so close that the rough wool of his shirt brushed against your dress. His hand shifted from your arm to the back of your neck, his fingers resting there firmly, possessively, but with the same strange tenderness he always showed you. “I won’t let him hurt you again,” Logan murmured, voice steady.
You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. And when you looked into his eyes—dark and steady and filled with something raw and unyielding—you thought maybe you could.
Your hand rested flat against his chest, fingers curling slightly into the worn fabric of his shirt. His heartbeat strong beneath your palm, steady and unrelenting.
“He won’t stop, Logan.” Your voice cracked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “He’ll just—he’ll come after me, after us.”
Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “Let him try,” he said, the words edged with a quiet menace that sent a chill down your spine.
It should have scared you, the way he said it—like violence was something inevitable, something he didn’t shy away from. But instead, it made you feel… safe. Safer than you’d felt in years.
The night air around you was cool, but standing this close to Logan, you felt none of it. His hand slipped from your neck down to the small of your back, his touch warm and steady through the fabric of your dress.
“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you didn’t move away.
Logan’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “I ain’t gonna pretend this is right,” he said, voice rough but quiet. “But I ain’t gonna pretend I don’t want you, either.”
His words hit you hard, sinking deep into your chest. You hadn’t realized how starved you were—how badly you needed someone to see you, to want you. And Logan… he saw everything. The bruises, the fear, the exhaustion. And still, he looked at you like you were worth something.
You swallowed thickly. “What happens if he finds out?”
Logan’s expression darkened. “He won’t.”
The finality in his tone left no room for doubt, and for a moment, all the fear that had been building inside you loosened, just enough to let you breathe.
Without thinking, you reached up, fingertips brushing along the edge of his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of stubble beneath your touch. Logan’s eyes closed briefly, like the small touch was something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. When his eyes opened again, they were darker, filled with a need that mirrored your own.
He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.
His lips found yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, like a man starved for something he couldn’t name. His hand cupped the back of your head, holding you to him as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
You melted into him, the fear and exhaustion slipping away, at least for now. His kiss was everything—an escape, a promise, a lifeline.
When you finally pulled back, breathless and trembling, Logan rested his forehead against yours. His hand lingered on your waist, as if letting go wasn’t an option.
“Just say the word, Y/N,” Logan whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Say the word, and we’ll leave. Tonight.”
Your heart ached at the offer—at the thought of running away with him, leaving everything behind. But it wasn’t that simple, and you both knew it.
“I can’t,” you whispered, hating yourself for the truth of it.
Logan’s grip on you tightened briefly, as if trying to hold onto something he couldn’t keep. But when he spoke again, his voice was steady.
“Then I’ll stay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “Until you can.”
You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. For the first time in years, you felt like you weren’t alone.
And that—just that—was enough to keep you going. For now.
---
One of the local churches was having a retreat set up for the women in town. Clara had been talking your ear off about it at Sunday church, spouting how excited she was to get out of the house.
You listened half-heartedly, but really you were thinking about what a perfect excuse it was to flip this into a lie for George.
You told Logan you couldn’t run away with him, but that didn’t include spending these few days with him, maybe off somewhere in a nearby town.
Most of the women in town were very religious, and at times you felt like an outsider. You didn’t believe like they did, but you kept up a perfect front to make them believe you felt the same way.
“Maybe we’ll have another sewing circle this time. Whaddya think?” Clara asked, a wide grin splitting her face as she held her hat against the October breeze.
You gave a noncommittal hum, tugging the sleeves of your dress down to cover the faint bruises on your wrists. “Maybe,” you murmured, though your thoughts were far from sewing circles and prayer sessions.
The retreat was perfect. It would get you out of George’s reach—at least for a couple of days—and give you the time you so desperately craved. More than anything, it meant time with Logan.
Clara didn’t seem to notice your distraction. “It’s always good to get away, you know? Some of these girls say the Holy Spirit really speaks to ‘em up there.” She gave you a knowing look. “Sometimes, you just gotta leave it all behind for a bit.”
You forced a smile. "Maybe that's what I need."
Clara squeezed your arm, oblivious to how you tensed. “See? That’s the spirit! Now you just gotta convince your husband.”
You swallowed thickly. George wouldn’t care about a church retreat if it kept up appearances. He didn’t pay much mind to you unless you were standing in his way—or if dinner wasn’t on time. A couple of days without you underfoot? He’d probably welcome the peace.
Later that night, after George had his fill of supper and slumped into his chair with a bottle, you tested the waters.
“You remember Clara?” you asked, keeping your tone light. “She mentioned a church retreat this weekend. Thought I’d go.”
George barely glanced up. “What for?”
“Some of the other women are going too.” You folded your hands together tightly, hiding your nervous fidgeting. “It’s just a few days. They’ll be praying and sewing... nothing much.”
George grunted, shifting in his chair. “You ain’t skippin' out on Sunday dinner.”
You bit your lip, nodding quickly. “No. I’ll be back before then.”
He waved you off with a lazy flick of his hand. “Fine. Just be sure you ain’t runnin' off to waste money.”
Relief washed over you so fast your knees felt weak. You ducked your head, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you,” before slipping into the next room. It had been easier than you expected—maybe too easy. But you weren’t about to second-guess it.
---
The next day, you told Logan.
You found him where you always did—leaning against the brick wall near the alley, a cigar pinched between his teeth. He straightened the second he saw you, his sharp gaze sweeping over you like it always did, searching for signs of hurt.
“I told George I’m going to the church retreat,” you said quietly, stepping close enough that the warmth of him reached you. “It’s this weekend. I’ll have a couple of days...” You let the words hang between you, heart pounding as you waited for him to understand what you were really saying.
Logan’s jaw ticked, his expression hard to read. “You sure?” His voice was low, the sound of it like gravel underfoot.
You gave a small nod. “It’s the only way I can get away.”
He exhaled through his nose, looking past you for a second before his eyes settled back on yours. “Where’s the retreat supposed to be?”
“About an hour north,” you said. “But... I’m not going there.”
Logan’s lips twitched, something almost like a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That right?”
“Yeah.” Your voice wavered slightly, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I wanna be with you, Logan. Just for a couple of days. Somewhere... away from here.”
The smirk faded, replaced by something heavier, something that settled deep in his eyes. “You know what you're askin’, darlin’?”
You nodded. “I know.”
He didn’t move for a long moment, just stood there watching you with those steady, knowing eyes. Then, with a slow exhale, he reached for you—his hand slipping under your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His thumb brushed along your jaw, and the touch made your breath catch.
“Where do you wanna go?” Logan asked, his voice rough but gentle.
“Anywhere.” The word slipped out before you could stop it, and you hated how desperate it sounded. “Just... not here.”
Logan gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Alright,” he muttered, the barest flicker of emotion crossing his face. “Meet me at the train station Friday night. I’ll take care of the rest.”
---
Friday came quicker than you expected.
The afternoon dragged, tension curling in your stomach as you packed a small bag. You kept everything simple—a couple of plain dresses, your brush, and the few coins you’d stashed away in a tin under the floorboards. You told yourself it wasn’t permanent. You’d be back in a few days, and everything would go back to how it was.
At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.
When the sun began to set, you told George you were leaving. He didn’t even look up from his whiskey. “Just don’t come back actin' all high and holy,” he muttered.
You gave a quick nod, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.
---
The train station was quiet when you arrived, your breath fogging in the cold night air. You spotted Logan almost immediately, standing near the platform with his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. He wore the same tired expression he always did, but when his eyes found yours, something softened in his gaze.
“You made it,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand found yours, rough fingers wrapping around yours like they belonged there.
“Yeah,” you whispered, squeezing his hand.
Logan gave a small nod toward the waiting train. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”
You boarded without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind you as the train rumbled to life beneath your feet. Logan led you to a quiet corner of the car, his hand never leaving yours.
As the train pulled away from the station, you glanced out the window. The town grew smaller, the lights fading into the distance until there was nothing but the dark, open night stretching out ahead of you.
For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe.
Logan’s arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side. His warmth bled into you, steady and unyielding, and for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.
“You alright?” Logan asked quietly, his lips brushing against the top of your head.
You nodded, leaning into him. “Yeah. I am.”
Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly ease as you settled against him. His arm was solid and steady around you, a quiet strength that made you feel secure. The train rocked beneath you, the rhythmic clattering on the tracks filling the silence. You closed your eyes, letting the sound and the warmth of Logan's presence wash over you.
For the first time in what felt like years, you could relax—if only for a little while.
"You got enough for a few days?" Logan asked, his voice gruff but soft, as if he was trying not to push too much too soon.
You nodded, pulling your small bag closer to you. "Yeah. Just the basics."
Logan gave a small grunt of approval. "We'll stop by a place I know, out of the way. You’ll be safe there."
"Safe..." The word hung in the air between you, heavier than you meant it to be. It felt like a luxury you hadn't been allowed for a long time, and the thought of it made your chest tighten.
Logan’s thumb stroked absently along your arm, a small gesture that grounded you. He didn’t press you for more, didn’t ask questions you weren’t ready to answer. That was the thing about Logan—he didn’t pry, didn’t demand anything from you. He just was. It was one of the reasons you felt drawn to him, why you kept finding yourself in his orbit.
But there was still so much you didn’t know about him. He’d never mentioned a family, never talked about where he’d come from or how he ended up here. There was a deep well of mystery around Logan, and sometimes you could feel it, the weight of something unspoken between the two of you. But you didn’t push him for answers either.
You shifted slightly, resting your head against his shoulder, the scent of cigar smoke and pine surrounding you. “Where are we going?”
"There's a place, up in the hills," Logan said quietly. "A cabin. No one's been there in a while. We'll be alone."
Alone. Just the two of you. The thought sent a ripple of excitement and fear through you, your heart skipping a beat. The idea of leaving everything behind—even if just for a few days—felt like a risk. But wasn’t that what you wanted? A break from George, from the town, from the suffocating weight of a life you never really chose.
“You sure about this?” Logan asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. “About… us?”
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your decision settle in your chest. It wasn’t just about getting away anymore. It was about choosing him, even if it was only for a little while. A choice that could never be undone.
“I’m sure,” you whispered, lifting your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, dark and searching, like he was looking for any hint of doubt.
Logan’s expression softened, just a fraction, and he gave a slow nod. “Alright.”
The train continued its steady rhythm, carrying you further away from the life you knew and into something unknown. You couldn’t think about what would come after—about George, about the retreat, about the women who would notice your absence. All you could think about was Logan, and the way his hand held yours, like he didn’t want to let go.
---
The cabin was quiet, nestled deep in the woods where no one could find you. Logan hadn’t been lying when he said it was out of the way. You hadn’t passed another soul on the journey here, and the solitude felt like a blanket wrapping around you, warm and comforting.
Logan pushed the door open, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. The inside was simple—rough wooden furniture, a stone fireplace, and a bed in the corner, covered in a faded quilt. It wasn’t much, but it felt safe, isolated from the rest of the world.
“You can get some rest,” Logan said, setting your bag down near the bed. “Fireplace works, and there’s wood out back if it gets cold.”
You nodded, glancing around the room before your eyes settled on him. “Thank you.”
Logan’s gaze flickered, something unreadable passing across his face before he nodded. “Don’t gotta thank me.”
There was a silence between you, not uncomfortable but full of things unsaid. You wanted to ask him more—about why he was helping you, about what he really wanted from all this—but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you stepped closer, your hand brushing against his arm.
“Logan…” you started, unsure of where you were going with it.
He turned to face you fully, his eyes locked on yours. “Yeah?”
You hesitated, then closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to rest on his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart under your palms, the warmth of his skin through his shirt.
“I just… I needed to be with you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
Logan’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “You got me,” he murmured, his voice rough but sincere. “For as long as you need.”
Your breath hitched, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his. It wasn’t soft or tentative like you thought it might be—it was hungry, desperate, like you’d been holding back for too long.
Logan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and the world outside the cabin seemed to disappear. There was no George, no town, no expectations. Just you and Logan, and the fire that burned between you.
---
Later, as the fire crackled in the hearth and the two of you lay tangled in each other’s arms, you stared up at the ceiling, your mind racing with everything that had happened.
Logan’s hand trailed idly along your arm, his fingers brushing over the faint bruises you’d tried so hard to hide. His touch was gentle, but you could feel the tension in him, the quiet anger simmering beneath the surface.
“I’ll kill him,” Logan muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “If he ever touches you again.”
You tensed, your breath catching in your throat. “Logan—”
“I mean it,” he growled, his grip on you tightening slightly. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
You turned to face him, your hand resting on his chest. “It’s not that simple…”
Logan’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something raw and painful in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite understand. But then he shook his head, exhaling slowly. “I just don’t wanna lose you. Not again.”
His words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could ask what he meant, Logan leaned down and kissed you again, silencing your questions.
The kiss was rough, full of unspoken things—promises, regrets, desires that neither of you could fully articulate. His lips moved against yours like they were trying to drown out the past, to focus only on the here and now. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers digging into his skin, wanting to hold on to this moment for as long as possible.
For now, you didn’t want to think about George. You didn’t want to think about the bruises you were hiding, the lies you had to keep telling to survive. You wanted to focus on Logan—the way his body pressed against yours, the warmth of his breath, the way he made you feel alive.
When you finally broke apart, your breathing heavy, Logan stayed close, his forehead resting against yours. His hand brushed your cheek, and for a moment, the roughness of him softened, like he was letting his guard down.
"You should rest," he murmured, his voice low, but there was a strain in it, like he was trying to hold something back.
You shook your head slightly. "I don’t want to rest. I want to stay here with you."
Logan’s eyes searched yours, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. He lifted his hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your skin for just a second longer than necessary.
“You know this can’t last,” he said quietly, the weight of the truth settling between you both.
You nodded, the ache in your chest growing. “I know.”
You had always known it couldn’t last. This was just a moment stolen from the real world—a fantasy that couldn’t survive the harshness of the life waiting for you back home. But that didn’t stop you from wanting it. It didn’t stop you from wanting him.
Logan’s hand found yours again, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that felt almost protective. He hadn’t let go since you’d arrived at the cabin, as if he feared you might slip away if he did.
“I wish it could be different,” you whispered, staring down at your intertwined hands.
Logan was silent for a long time before he spoke. “Me too.”
The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with warmth, but there was still a chill in the air, an unspoken tension lingering between the two of you. You could feel it in the way Logan’s thumb stroked absentmindedly across your knuckles, like he was trying to ground himself—trying to ground you.
“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice softer now. “Helping me, I mean.”
Logan’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, his jaw clenching slightly. When he looked back at you, his eyes were hard to read. “Because you deserve better than him.”
It wasn’t a full answer, but it was the closest he’d come to telling you why. You weren’t sure if he was holding something back or if he just didn’t know how to say it. Logan wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, and you’d never pushed him for more than he was willing to give.
You nodded, accepting his answer for now. “Thank you.”
Logan’s eyes softened at your words, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t gotta thank me, Y/N.”
You closed your eyes, letting yourself lean into him. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to just be. No pretending, no worrying about what came next. Just this—just him.
---
The morning light filtered through the small windows of the cabin, casting a soft glow on the wooden floor. You woke to the sound of birds chirping outside and the comforting warmth of Logan’s body beside you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to stay like this, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this peaceful.
Logan stirred beneath you, his arm tightening around your waist as he woke. His eyes flickered open, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable.
“Mornin’,” he murmured, his voice still gravelly with sleep.
You smiled, the corners of your lips tugging up. “Morning.”
Logan gave a quiet grunt in response, shifting slightly beneath you. His hand was still draped over your waist, his fingers rough but warm against your skin. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, his expression unreadable in the soft morning light, like he was trying to figure out if this moment was real.
“You sleep alright?” he asked, his voice still gravelly with sleep.
You nodded, brushing your fingers absently along his collarbone. “Better than I have in a long time.”
Logan gave a small hum, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that—your body curled into his, the outside world forgotten.
It felt fragile, like if you moved too quickly or said the wrong thing, it might all shatter.
“Gotta admit,” you murmured, “it feels strange waking up like this.”
“Yeah?” Logan's lips twitched, just barely. “Strange good, or strange bad?”
A soft laugh slipped out of you. “Good,” you whispered. “Strange in a good way.”
He held your gaze, something flickering in his eyes—something like relief. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the same quiet intensity you’d come to expect from him. Logan wasn’t a man who wasted words, and that suited you just fine.
The clock on the mantle ticked steadily, marking the minutes passing in this stolen moment. You let out a soft breath and rested your chin on his chest, tracing invisible patterns on his skin with your fingertip.
“What time do you think it is?” you asked, though you didn’t really care about the answer.
Logan turned his head slightly toward the window, where the early morning sun was just beginning to peek through the trees. “Still early.”
“Good.” You nestled closer, unwilling to let the morning slip away just yet.
He didn’t say anything for a while, just ran his hand up and down your back in slow, lazy strokes. The motion was soothing—so different from anything you’d known in your marriage. With George, everything felt like an obligation, a duty. With Logan... it felt like choice.
Logan’s breath stirred your hair as he spoke again, his voice low. “You thinkin' about goin' back?”
The question hit you like a stone dropped into still water, the ripples spreading out in every direction.
You hesitated, your fingers stilling against his chest. “I don’t know.”
Logan’s jaw flexed, and you could feel the tension creep back into him. “If you don’t want to... you don’t gotta.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Logan gave a quiet grunt, his hand still resting against your back, though his grip tightened slightly. “It could be.”
You shook your head. “He’s my husband, Logan.”
Logan exhaled hard through his nose, and you felt the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “That don’t mean you owe him anything.”
The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, and it tugged at something deep inside you—something that made you want to stay, to never go back to the life you’d left behind.
But it wasn’t that easy. It never was.
“I have to,” you whispered. “At least for now.”
Logan was silent for a long time, his hand resting heavily on your back. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, almost reluctant. “You know where to find me if things get bad.”
It wasn’t a promise, not exactly—but it felt like one.
“I know,” you murmured, brushing a soft kiss against his shoulder.
Logan’s hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin. “You got somethin’ to say, darlin’, just say it.”
You closed your eyes, trying to find the words. “I just... I don’t want this to end.”
The admission hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. Logan’s grip on you tightened, his expression darkening.
“It won’t,” he said quietly, and there was a fierceness in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you let yourself believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.
You pressed your forehead against his, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Promise?”
Logan’s breath was warm against your skin. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, Y/N. Not this time.”
Something about the way he said it—like there was more weight behind those words than you could fully understand—made your chest ache. But you didn’t push for more.
Instead, you kissed him.
It was slow this time, tender in a way that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. Logan kissed you back just as softly, his hands cradling you like you were something precious.
And for a little while longer, you let yourself believe in the possibility of happiness.
---
The days you spent at the cabin away from everything with Logan were the closest you think you’d ever get to heaven.
But of course, it had to come to an end. Logan walked you back to your house, keeping to the shadows where the trees thickened along the road. Luckily, George wasn’t home yet, but you knew he’d be back soon. On Sundays, the men from the mines always went to the bar after church, spending what little money they had on whiskey before heading home for dinner.
Logan stopped a few steps short of the porch, his expression unreadable. His heavy boots crunched against the dirt, and he tilted his head, listening for signs of anyone nearby. It was quiet—just the soft rustling of the wind through the trees and the distant caw of a crow.
“Looks clear,” he muttered, glancing toward the road. Then his eyes were back on you—sharp, like he was committing every detail of this moment to memory.
You stood there, one hand gripping the hem of your plain cotton dress, the other clutching the shawl draped over your shoulders. It was getting colder, October creeping in around the edges.
Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. He shifted his weight, arms folding across his chest. “You sure you’re good?” His voice was low, rough as gravel.
“I’ll be fine,” you whispered, but the words felt thin, like paper stretched too tight.
His eyes flicked over your face, lingering on the bruise near your jaw that hadn’t quite faded. You saw it—the way his knuckles twitched like he wanted to tear something apart, or maybe someone. But Logan knew better than to push this conversation again. You’d had it more times than either of you cared to count.
“I mean it, Y/N,” he said, quieter this time, but no less serious. “If things get—”
“I know.” You cut him off gently, giving a small nod. “I know where to find you.”
Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. The porch steps creaked under your weight as you climbed them slowly, heart heavy in your chest. You reached for the door, but before your fingers touched the worn wood, you felt his hand wrap gently around your wrist.
You turned, meeting his gaze.
“You ain’t alone in this,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist. It was the kind of touch that made your knees weak—steady, solid, full of unspoken promises.
“I know,” you whispered, holding his gaze a second longer than you should have. Then you pulled your hand free, feeling the cold settle in the space where his warmth had been.
The door clicked quietly behind you, sealing you inside.
---
It was well into the afternoon by the time George came home. You’d set the table with what little you had—a pot of boiled potatoes, bread that was more crust than loaf, and a pan of cold pork you’d managed to stretch out since Friday.
George slammed the door behind him, the stench of sweat and beer clinging to his clothes. He tossed his flat cap onto the chair and grunted as he sat down heavily at the table.
“Where’s the roast?” he asked, eyeing the measly spread with disapproval.
“There wasn’t any.” You kept your voice even, steady, though your hands trembled slightly as you placed the food in front of him.
George gave you a hard look, his lip curling in disgust. “Useless,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.
You clenched your jaw, swallowing the sharp retort that burned on your tongue. Fighting him would only make it worse.
He ate in silence, the scrape of his knife against the plate the only sound in the small kitchen. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed his chair back with a loud scrape.
“Goin’ to bed,” he grumbled, already halfway out of the room before you could respond.
The knot in your stomach tightened, but you stayed still, standing in the middle of the kitchen long after the sound of his boots thudding down the hallway faded.
It was always like this. A dull, suffocating ache—day after day, night after night. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you had the strength to keep pretending.
---
It was well past midnight when you slipped out the back door. The cold bit at your skin, and you pulled your shawl tighter around your shoulders as you made your way down the dirt path leading into the woods. The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light across the clearing where Logan was waiting, his broad frame leaning against a tree trunk.
He looked up as you approached, his keen eyes catching the moonlight.
“Figured you’d come.” There was no smugness in his tone—just quiet understanding, like he’d known all along that you wouldn’t be able to stay away.
You stopped a few feet from him, your breath clouding in the crisp night air. “I couldn’t do it,” you admitted, your voice small.
Logan pushed off the tree and closed the distance between you in two strides. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, firm and grounding. “You ain’t gotta explain.”
You looked up at him, heart aching with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his chest.
His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. You felt the steady rise and fall of his breath, the quiet strength in the way he held you—like he’d fight the whole world just to keep you safe.
“I missed you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
Logan’s grip tightened. “I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The night stretched on around you, silent and still, as Logan’s hands roamed up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes.
“You stayin’ tonight?” he asked quietly, his breath warm against your hair.
You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Just tonight.”
Logan didn’t argue. He never did.
He took your hand, lacing his rough fingers through yours, and led you deeper into the woods—away from the house, away from the life you were supposed to live.
And for one stolen night, you let yourself believe it was enough.
---
When you got home later that night, around 3 in the morning, everything looked normal. The lights in the house were all off, and it was quiet.
You hung your shawl on the hook by the door when you heard the clink of a bottle. Your heart sank. George was awake.
The small kitchen was dim, the only light coming from the dying embers of the fire. George sat slouched at the table, a nearly empty whiskey bottle in his hand. His eyes were dark, glazed over with drunken fury. You could tell by the set of his jaw, by the way his knuckles gripped the bottle too tight, that this wasn’t going to end well.
“Where’ve you been?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, his steps heavy as he moved toward you.
“I went to clear my head,” you said softly, keeping your voice calm, steady, though your heart pounded in your chest. “The air helps me sleep.”
George narrowed his eyes. “That so? 'Cause Johnny’s wife told me somethin' different. Said she didn’t see you at the church retreat.”
You froze. You had been at the retreat—briefly—but it was a cover for your meeting with Logan, and Johnny’s wife must’ve been one of the few people you didn’t see. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words stuck in your throat.
“I was there,” you managed, though you knew it wouldn’t matter.
George took another step toward you, his voice rising. “Don’t lie to me!” His breath stank of alcohol as he spat the words at you, the anger radiating off him like heat. “What were you really doin’, Y/N? Who were you with?”
Your stomach twisted in fear as his hand shot out, grabbing your arm hard enough to make you wince. “George, please—” you started, but he cut you off.
“I know you weren’t there. Where the hell were you?” He shook you, his grip tightening painfully around your arm.
You winced, biting back a cry. “I told you, I was there.”
But George wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes flicked to the door, then back to you, and a dangerous look settled across his face. “You been sneakin’ around on me, haven’t you?” His voice was low, deadly now. He released your arm with a shove, sending you stumbling back a step. “You think I’m stupid?”
“George, I’m not sneaking around,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm even though your pulse was racing. “I just needed some air. I—”
His hand moved faster than you expected, backhanding you hard across the face. Pain exploded through your cheek, and you stumbled, clutching the side of your face as tears sprang to your eyes.
“You think I don’t know?” George hissed, his face twisted with fury. “You’ve been leavin’ me here, goin’ off, God knows where. You ain’t foolin’ me, Y/N.”
You took a shaky breath, tasting blood where your teeth had cut your lip. “George, please—”
But he was already moving, crossing the small kitchen in two heavy steps. You saw the glint of metal before he pulled the shotgun from the corner near the door. Panic seized you.
“George, no—” Your voice broke as you held up your hands, trying to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The small kitchen felt like a cage, the walls closing in around you.
George leveled the shotgun at you, his hands shaking slightly but his eyes wild with rage. “You think you can just leave? You think you can just run off whenever you please?”
You felt like you were drowning, your heart pounding so hard in your chest it hurt. “I wasn’t leaving,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn’t—George, please, put the gun down.”
“Shut up!” he snarled, taking a step toward you. “You’re lyin’! You’ve always been lyin’, and I’m done with it.”
You were shaking, trying to think of something, anything that would get through to him. “I’m your wife,” you said quietly, desperately. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you. I—”
But the words didn’t matter. Nothing you said would stop this. You could see it in his eyes—the cold, determined look of a man who had already made up his mind.
For a moment, everything felt frozen. The ticking of the old clock on the wall, the crackling of the dying fire—it all seemed too loud, too slow. George’s finger twitched on the trigger.
And then, in an instant, the world shattered.
The shotgun blast was deafening, the sound tearing through the small kitchen like thunder. You didn’t even feel the impact at first—just a sharp, searing pain that spread through your chest, knocking the air from your lungs.
You stumbled, your legs giving out beneath you as you hit the floor hard, the cold tiles pressing against your cheek. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, blood pooling around you.
The room swam, your vision dimming as you tried to focus, but all you could see was the dark shape of George standing over you, the shotgun still smoking in his hands.
---
Logan heard the shot before he smelled the blood.
His body reacted instinctively, his enhanced senses kicking into overdrive. He’d been lying awake, his thoughts consumed by you, when the sound echoed through the still night. There was no mistaking it.
His heart lurched in his chest, and without thinking, Logan bolted to his feet, running toward your house, his mind racing with fear. He knew. He knew it was you.
The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air as he neared the house. Logan’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the door slightly ajar, the soft light spilling out into the dark.
He pushed the door open, his claws already unsheathed.
The sight that greeted him froze him in place.
You were lying on the floor, a pool of blood spreading out around you, your breaths coming in shallow, painful gasps. And standing over you, his face twisted with something like confusion, was George.
Logan’s vision blurred with red.
He didn’t think—he just moved. In a blur, he was on George, his claws slashing through the air. There was a sickening crunch as the bone tore through flesh and bone, and then George was on the ground, lifeless.
Logan didn’t care. His only focus was you.
He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering over your body, desperate to stop the bleeding, but there was too much. The wound was too deep. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough, desperate. “Stay with me.”
Your eyes fluttered open, but it was hard to focus. Everything felt distant, like you were floating just out of reach of the world. You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Blood bubbled at your lips.
Logan’s face hovered above yours, his expression shattered. “Please, darlin’, hold on. Just hold on.”
You coughed, the pain in your chest unbearable, and for a brief moment, your eyes met his. The world was fading fast now, slipping away like sand through your fingers.
“Logan...” you managed, your voice barely a whisper.
His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears you didn’t even realize had fallen. “I’m here,” he choked out. “I’m here.”
You smiled weakly, even as the darkness closed in around you. “I… I love you.”
Logan’s breath hitched, his grip on you tightening like he could somehow hold you to this world. But you knew, just as he did, that this was the end.
“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
Your chest ached, not just from the pain but from the weight of those words—the weight of knowing this was goodbye.
And then, everything went still.
You felt Logan’s hand in yours, the warmth of his touch lingering even as the world around you faded into darkness.
You weren’t afraid. Not anymore.
You were free.
Logan knelt there, holding you long after the last breath left your body, his heart breaking all over again.
in this chapter logan is 68 years old and reader is around 21-24 years old.
just a reminder that going forward there is going to be an age gap between the two since logan obviously keeps getting older.
#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
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Logan Howlett x f!reader: breeding kink/baby trapping
warnings/tags: SMUT 18+!!!, f!reader, unprotected piv, breeding kink, baby trapping, overstimulation
a/n: this ain’t very good and not proofread either but i needed to get my thoughts written down cause… i want Logan to put a baby in me or whatever. if i forgot any tags or warnings let me know!!
maybe you should have worn a condom. in all honesty, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, you’d been too occupied with the need to feel every single inch and vein of Logan’s rock hard cock inside of you.
now, here you are, getting pounded into the bed from the back, with Logan thrusts growing more and more desperate. his moans of pleasure match your own, with your face turned to the side, cheek squished against the mattress. the tip of his length kisses that sweet spot deep inside repeatedly, and you’re close, so close. and by the twitching of Logan’s cock inside you, he must be as well.
“ngh! I’m close, Logan!”, you mewl, struggling to even make words come out by the sheer intensity of his thrusts. Logan only grunts in response, his body coming to rest on top of yours while he keeps rolling his hips into you with no remorse.
“f-fuck, come for me, baby. n-need you to” he stutters out, his thrust growing unsteady but desperate. he hits that sweet spot again, and with a cry of his name, you tip over the edge, your eyes rolling to the back of your head whilst he keeps pumping into you relentlessly. he feels you clenching down on his cock, and he lets out a ragged moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. then suddenly, without warning, he empties his load inside of you. you gasp as you feel his seed spill into you, a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Logan slumps down on your body, nearly crushing you beneath his weight, but he’s trying to hold himself up with his forearms planted on either side of your head. to your shock, he keeps lazily drilling his cock into your overstimulated cunt, somehow spilling even more of his cum. you whimper beneath him, unable to move much.
“Logan!” you try to scold him, stop him, but he only growls in response. eventually, his emptied all of his cum into your aching hole, and his hips still.
“m’sorry… needed to cum in you” he mumbles, but there’s no real apology in his voice. despite your better judgment, his words are so hot, and you can just about mutter out a response.
“I’m not on birth control…” you remind him, but you’re shocked when you feel his cock become hard again. he growls in approval, his teeth latching on to the soft skin of your neck.
“good. gonna have you stuffed full with my seed, your belly all swollen with my cubs…” he says, his tone gruff, his eyes almost feral. your eyes go wide, equal parts terror and arousal in your expression. his teeth sink into your skin, not hard enough to pierce, but enough to make you squeal.
you can’t bring it in yourself to refuse, to protest. so you let Logan flip you over on your back, and he almost immediately starts thrusting into you with a newfound vigour and urgency.
at the end of the night, when Logan is finally spent, and you feel like a used ragdoll, you lie on your back, feeling your mixed releases slowly spilling onto the bed. you whine and when you suddenly feel Logan’s two thick fingers plunging into your used pussy, plugging his cum in you.
“can’t have it go to waste, baby…”
#hugh jackman#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#x men#logan smut#wolverine smut#logan wolverine#wolverine fanfiction#james logan howlett
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PLEASE
i’m so DRUNK and i can’t stop thinking about pervy!logan not being able to keep his hands off of you.
“c’mon doll, it tickles huh?” he’d ask as his eyes bore into yours, and you couldn’t help but feel flustered, breaking the eye contact.
“mhm, yeahh”, you giggle out, face flushed a bright shade of pink as his hand creeps further up your skirt.
his hands make their way to your panties, the rough pads of his fingers feeling the fabric all soaked up, fingers lazily playing at your clit.
“feels good, princess?” he coos into your ears, his beard tickling your ears which were just as red as your face.
“y-yes,” you barely manage to get out, tilting back your head, tightly shutting your eyes in pleasure.
“look at my girl, enjoying herself,” he grumbles, continuing to rub circles on your clit. “dirty little thing…”
“y’like when your old man plays with your princess parts, doll?” he teases, his fingers pushing harder against you, bringing you closer to your breaking point.
you hastily nod your head yes, but logan lets out a tsk, showing his disapproval.
“words, bub,” he demands, punctuating his words by accelerating the pace of his fingers, the circles he’d rub on your clit getting tighter and tighter.
“oh fuck,” you whine, feeling yourself falter beneath him, the knot in your belly about to snap. “y-yes, daddy,” you cry out.
“good girl, good fuckin’ girl.”
#nymphia notes#i can’t stop thinking about him#i need him so bad rn#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine x reader#logan howlett smut#drabble
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his smile!!!!!!!! his smile, in this suit, has me dead he looks so cute i want to sit in his lap and hug him omg omg
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett xmen#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x you#logan xmen#x men movies#logan x reader#the worst logan x reader#worst wolverine#worst logan#x men wolverine
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Imagine Hugh hard-launching you by bringing you as his date on the movie premiere.
The camera flashes were blinding, and the shouts of the paparazzi almost made it worse. However, Hugh’s hand on your waist and your head meeting his broad chest calmed you down. The crowd and attention were more energized than the ones you attended before. You, too, were a famous actress and garnered tons of blinding camera flashes even when you were not attending an event like a premiere.
Your alleged relationship with Hugh was a prevailing rumor that, on red carpets, some interviewers would rudely ask about it. The two of you dodged the questions since you didn’t want to launch the relationship immediately. With the rising interest of the internet on Hugh and your busy schedule, the two of you decided to attend together at his latest movie’s premiere.
You wore a subtle, lacy black dress to not overshow and Hugh is in his sleek black suit. The two of you walked with confidence and shared some laughs as the crowd and paparazzi shouted your names. Hugh noticed that you were agitated at the flashes and loud noises. He kissed your forehead and whispered sweet nothings in your ear, even joking to make you feel more relaxed. Thankfully, the two of you avoided rude interviewers who were more interested in asking invasive questions about the relationship.
Hugh’s freaky side couldn’t be contained as he squeezed your ass, remarking how the tight black dress hugged every curve. You giggle and kiss his cheek as you hold his hand at your waist tighter. The crowd went wild then Hugh jokingly asked if he could kiss you, calling it the best shot of the night. You agreed, and your lips crashed with his soft ones. Even with your eyes closed, the blinding flashes of the cameras increased as the two of you launched the relationship and gave the crowd what they wanted.
eudaimaniacs - 2024
#hugh jackman#hugh jackman x reader#hugh jackman smut#hugh jackman imagine#hugh jackman x you#hugh jackman headcanons#hugh jackman fluff#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett x you#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#x-men#x-men smut#x-men imagine#xmen#xmen smut#xmen imagine
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Old man!Logan is definitely husband material🥰💍🩵
𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒚𝒂
• 𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓
+18 minors do interact.
@divider by @anitalenia
• Oldman Logan who often finds himself gazing at you when you talk and explain things with your hand gestures because his heart is hammering against his chest.
• Oldman Logan who never looks at other women because they are nonexistent to him. He keeps your picture in his limo while he works and during breaks he calls you. He doesn’t go without messaging you few times a day before coming home.
• Oldman Logan who compliments you, touches your hands in his and rubs them together kissing them because for him you’re a goddess, his wife, his Angel who takes care for him. His words flutter your heart and you can’t even explain how much you love him. Only show him everyday by cooking for him, making sure your little house is clean, doing his laundry because you want to do it all. But most of all… you love to spend time with him.
• Oldman Logan who allows you to sit on his lap, when he reads. Be it newspapers, books or anything else. You sit on his thigh and cuddle yourself close to him. His arm is always around you and keeps you close.
• Oldman Logan who is often haunted by nightmares and bad dreams so he often passes out in his armchair, but you always wake him gently taking his hand leading him back to the bed. He then snuggles close to you, hiding his face against your neck having your arms and legs around him. Like that he doesn’t growl, or awakens suddenly from a bad dream. You make it all go away
• Oldman Logan whose body is not as young anymore, his skin is littered with scars and his healing factor is very slow. You kiss away his worries and he lets you. Your kissing warms his chest so much.
• Oldman Logan who rarely takes control during your lovemaking, he lets you on top because he aches but wants to be inside of you so much that he lets out soft groans and whimpers when you ride him. He loves watching you, holding you, running his big palms over your young body appreciating your beauty. You’re whimpering at the size of him and it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve taken him.
• Oldman Logan who gets happy, when you get him a new pack of cigars. He gets you flowers in return. He gets you flowers, chocolates and everything you love because he pays attention to small details very often because actions speak louder than words.
• Oldman Logan who comes home with new wounds, because people like to annoy him and fight him and it always ends badly. He hates seeing you cry when you clean away his wounds, and see the bullets in the sink as he pushes them out by himself growling in pain and his hands tremble. Your heart breaks and he doesn’t want you to see how weak he is when he is wounded. But despite all that you nurse him, and never leave his side. And he thinks he’s the luckiest man alive for that—
• Oldman Logan who seeks your kisses, when you bath together. He loves having you turned with your back towards him as he sits behind you. His large arms curl around you and he can listen to you talking for hours. He sits there with you and smiles. Sometimes he talks, but physical touch is one of his love languages for sure.
• Oldman Logan who loves when you dress up for him and give him a little show while he smokes his cigar in his armchair and you act like you’re on a catwalk. He loves all of them dresses and praises you. How lovely and gorgeous you look, he wears his glasses to see you better and even attempts to take photos of you in his phone. Your giggles and smiles bright up his world. You’re the light in his darkness.
• Oldman Logan who protects you with his life and that last bit of the strength he has. He doesn’t leave your side, and you’re the luckiest woman on earth for that. He helps you out and cares for you just as much you care for him. Because gosh… you’re two fools in love with each other.
• Oldman Logan who is definitely a husband material so ♾️/10 ;)
-
#logan howlett#wolverine#old man!logan#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett smut
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Hot Summer - MDNI 18+
TAGS: Wolverine x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Logan has a knot, idc if wolverines are not a canid species I’m doing my best ok, Femme Reader, Friends to lovers sort of deal, Mentions of rut / heat, maybe a little feral?, also im giving this bitch fangs because he should have them, smut with very little plot, creampie, helping a horny mutant in need, PinV, oral (fem receiving) ((for like 1 moment)), marking / hickeys / scratching, this is literally just smut with minimal plot
WORD COUNT: 2560
A/N: Hey, remember when I asked if you would still love me if I wrote Logan with a knot? Yeah well here it is, may it comfort you in this terrible world <3
If you enjoy my work consider sending me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/rotwrites (Not required by any means, writing requests are still free!)
—------------
The summer at the institute was always a little boring, or even very boring. You were one of the few students who hadn’t made plans and ended up stuck in the mansion, doing mindless tasks and trying to not be bored out of your mind. It was mostly empty, and as you walked the halls, you hardly even noticed the change in atmosphere. It had just been you, Charles, and a few other kids that would pop up every now and then. So, you were rather surprised when you rounded the corner and saw him standing there.
“Logan,” You call, and he turns to look at you. Your breath catching in your throat as you take in the sight of him, sweaty and a little dirty from whatever he had been doing. “I thought you were out for the summer?”
“Yeah, was. Chuck called me back, gotta fix up some things.” He looks you over, and smiles, the flash of his sharp canines sending flutters right through your stomach.
“Oh, well it’s good to see you.” You try not to stare, wondering if he has somehow gotten even more alluring in his brief absence. The length of your shorts, and thin fabric of your tank making you feel much more bare now than before. “I’ll let you get back to it,”
“Thanks, doll. We’ll catch up when I’m done.” Something in his voice feels different, but you try not to focus on it as you head over towards the kitchen. He did look rather good, maybe even more than he usually did. Though you had been trying desperately not to think of him in that way, to preserve one of the few friendships you had built here. But the image of him dripping in sweat, in a dirt stained beater and jeans that were tight in all the right spots. That image would make things harder for sure. The thoughts of his teeth sliding along your neck, his rough hands clinging to your hips.
You pushed those thoughts down as best as you could and decided you would attempt to read, lounging in the corner of the kitchen, book in hand. Your eyes flicking across the pages, barely absorbing the words, just trying to give yourself a reasonable distraction. You weren’t sure how long you had been doing this before Logan had made his way into the kitchen.
“Reading?”
“Barely-” you laugh, but are briefly silenced when you look up to see Logan, shirtless. He has his dirty tank in his hand, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t even that hot out for the season, and yet he was somehow soaked in sweat. You couldn’t imagine the work Charles had him doing to be that strenuous.
“Oh yeah? Something on your mind?” He loops the fabric of the tank through one of his belt loops and walks over to the fridge.
“Uh-” You can’t help the way your mind practically goes blank as you watch him. He’s taken a beer from the very back of the fridge and popped the cap off on the edge of the counter, hopefully he hadn’t chipped it or that would be another thing to add to his list of repairs.
“You want one?” He references the drink in his hand, you nod and stand up from your chair. Whatever book you were reading was quickly forgotten and left on the floor. You stand next to him leaning against the counter as he opens the beer for you and hands it to you. He must’ve bought them and hid them in the back of the fridge whenever he had gotten back to the mansion, cause you couldn’t recall seeing any in there for the past few months.
As you take the beer from him your fingers brush against his, and as if he had been shocked he flinches. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you. He grits his teeth and tries to regain his composure, but you can tell something is going on. You step closer to him, your hip almost touching him. He leans down towards you, as if he was going to tell you a secret.
You want to turn your face towards his, to swallow him up in a kiss, to beg him to tell you what he was thinking. But as he moves closer to you, you find yourself paralyzed.
“You smell good,” he breathes in, his face inches away from your neck.
“So do you…” You turn your head to avoid his gaze. He smells better than usual. Something about the smell of sunshine, dirt, and whatever sawdust or debris had been falling onto him made you want to reach out and grab him, but before you could, he corners you. Your back against the counter, his hands finding your hips and effortlessly lifting you on top of the counter. He presses himself against you. You're caged in by his large arms, the muscles taut and glistening.
His face against your neck, his teeth almost brushing against your skin. His rough fingers digging into your hips. The fabric of his jeans rubbing up against your thighs, now wet from his sweat and your sudden excitement.
“Logan-” you whine, practically trembling, and he seems to remember himself.
“Sorry, doll.” He steps back and looks you over, a devious glint in his eye. Without another word he is gone from the kitchen. You are unsure of what to do, or what even was happening but eventually follow him.
He has resigned himself to his room, and you can hear him pacing back and forth behind the door. You knock gently and the sounds stop. He opens the door just a crack, he seems even sweatier and disheveled from when he had found you in the kitchen. His eyes piercing and intense, his pupils blown wide, his breath slow and shaky.
“Logan, are you alright?”
He grunts in response, shaking his head.
“What’s wrong?”
He looks you over, and opens the door wider. You step inside and he quickly shuts the door. He looks even wilder than he had in the kitchen, still shirtless, only in his jeans. Which you try not to make note of the very large and obvious bulge in the crotch. His hair is messy and disheveled, you imagine he had been running his hands through it as he was pacing around.
“Logan?” You walk towards him and he makes a strangled sound. “Are you feeling ok?”
When he turns towards you, your heart races and your breath catches in your throat. He looks so pathetic. Rendered down to some poor animalistic creature. He walks slowly towards you, and when he is a mere step away he grabs your hands and pins them up above you, your back pressed against the door.
“You should go,” He growls into your ear as he brushes his nose against your jaw. “Too dangerous for you to be in here.”
“Why? You’re not gonna hurt me,” You lean into his touch, resting your head against his.
“Might,” He drops your wrists and tries to step away, but you follow. Keeping the gap between you as small as possible. He groans as you run your hands along his arms, trying to be gentle and encouraging so that he may tell you what’s going on. Before you can ask, he takes one of your hands and slides it underneath the waistband of his pants.
Your eyes widened as you feel the weight and heat of his cock in your hand. You curiously push your hand down more and feel a swollen bulb at the base of it. Oh.
Oh.
Now you understood. You had at some points wondered just how animalistic his mutation was, but now you got it. Late summer was a rather common breeding season for a variety of mammals and it seems as if Logan was one of them.
“Let me help you,” You slide your fingers up the length of him, tracing the prominent vein on the underneath of the shaft.
“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” He shudders as you wrap your fingers around his cock.
“Why not?” You smile up at him, and you feel him straining to not thrust up into your hand.
“You might regret it.”
“I don’t think so,” you lean up so that your lips are nearly brushing his, and his restrain snaps.
He closes the distance and practically devours you, kissing you rough and desperately.
It was as if a fire had been reignited within him and he could do nothing to put it out. His hands grasping and clawing at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight against him. His lips leaving frenzied kisses against your jaw and neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin and his tongue soothing the small marks left in their wake.
He lifted you easily, dragging the both of you towards the bed where he tossed you down against the mess of sheets and pillows. His hands running along the curvature of your body, as if removing himself from you would cause him great pain. His face was wild, that of a crazed man who finally had found whatever he had been searching for.
You were utterly breathless and your heart beat rang in your ears loud as could be. He makes quick work of your clothes, tossing them off somewhere, his hands hardly leaving your body for more than a few seconds. He drags himself away from you for just long enough to find himself kneeling in front of you, pulling you down to the edge of the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders, his head between them, looking up towards you with the most pathetically hungry expression you could have ever imagined.
“You’re sure doll?” His voice is strained and rough.
You nod, your hands finding their way to tangle in his hair to softly encourage him to continue. He growls and presses his lips to your inner thigh, kissing the soft skin and taking the flesh into his mouth to nibble and bite at. Trailing up and down the length of each thigh, relishing in the small whines and moans leaving your mouth as he decorates your delicate skin with marks. Feeling satisfied that you were now his in this moment, he brings his attention to the aching spot between your thighs, dragging his tongue up through your folds to lap and suck upon your clit. The feeling electric and mind numbing. He slides his tongue along your clit in sloppy circular motions, sucking it in gently, generating small whimpers from you. He growls as he hungrily slurps you up, his patience growing thin as he becomes entirely enveloped in your scent.
He pulls away from you, a small whine leaving your lips as you sit up and rest on your elbows to watch him. He quickly kicks off his pants, and you gasp when you see him. The tip of his cock is red with need and practically dripping. You feel a bit more intimidated now as you stare wide-eyed at the bulb throbbing at the base of his cock. You could only pray that it would fit.
Logan smirks and hovers over you, caging you in with his large arms. “Having some regrets, princess?”
“No,” you lift your hips up to shamelessly rub yourself against his erection and he groans. One hand moving down your body to roughly grab your hip pushing you down into the mattress. He slides his cock between your wetness, your breath hitching when the head of his cock bumps against your clit. Your arousal coating him, the slick wet noises make your head spin.
“Please,” You whine. He presses the tip against your entrance and you try to lift your hips closer to him, begging for it to slide inside. Your breath hitching when it finally does. He moves painfully slow, the drag of his cock slowly stretching you out. A sort of burning rising in your stomach as you strain to be closer to him.
“So desperate,” He huffs, wrapping an arm around you and holding you close against him as he bottoms out. Your whines make his heart ache. “I’ve got you princess, I’m right here.”
You claw at his shoulders, his arms, his back, anything you can reach. The knot at the base of his cock pressing into you, you feel like you could break. Heat spreading over your entire body. You can’t get close enough. You want him to devour you. To take what he needs and worry about you later, but he’s being so gentle that it makes your eyes water.
His pace stays slow, once he feels you relax, he pulls himself back before pressing in again. Slow, deliberate, patient. He watches your face as you try to play tough, acting like you can handle it despite your trembling. When you flutter around him and a broken moan falls from your mouth he falters.
“I don’t think I can be gentle for much longer,” He whispers against your neck, kissing right below your ear.
“So don’t be,” your whimper flips a switch in him. He would have preferred your first time together to be different than this, to be softer and sweeter. To be kinder to you. But when you beg to help him, and try to take him so good, he can’t help himself.
He barely hesitates before his pace quickens, and the sheer force of his movements is enough to make your brain fuzzy and dumb. The headboard smacking into the wall with every rough movement, the bed frame creaking beneath you. You’d feel bad about all the noise if you were in any position to feel anything other than Logan ruthlessly fucking you.
His cock stretches you in such a way that each thrust presses against that sweet spot inside you. The knot at the base pressing against your clit. The slap of it sends little waves of pleasure throughout your body. His pace hardly falters, as you grip onto his arms, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, desperately trying to take it. To help him through it. Wanting him to use you and be satiated.
“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he groans as he feels you tighten around him. You tremble and whine, shaking as your orgasm takes over and you can hardly think of anything as his motions begin to falter too.
He shudders as he pumps into you, his ruthless pace being diminished into small quick thrusts. You groan as you feel the knot slip in, and he cums. You feel so utterly full as more and more cum is spilled into you. So much so that it’s dripping down onto the mattress beneath you. Your eyes rolling back in your head, and you can feel drool leaking from your open mouth. Your body feeling limp, you can hardly manage to keep your eyes open and steady enough to look at Logan. He seems hardly affected.
“We’re gonna be here a while, Doll. Don’t get tired on me already,” Logan grins, pressing his lips against your neck and you shudder as you feel his sharp canines graze the sensitive skin.
At least the rest of your summer would be far from boring.
#logan howlett#wolverine x reader#wolverine#logan howlett smut#logan howlett x reader#wolverine smut
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Unclaimed Wedding Vows.
Duke James 'Logan' Howlett x f! reader
tags: eventual smut, pining, unmarried hand holding, leopold but he's old man logan and he's not a mutant, set in an alternate universe london, reader is not written with any race or ethnicity in mind, english is not my first language, inspired by bridgerton but more influenced by jane austen books. reader is based on elizabeth bennet and emma woodhouse.
— A new season has begun in 1813 in London, and Lord Leclaire is urging you, his daughter, to welcome potential suitors. However, you believe that you deserve nothing less than the best. Coincidentally, the mamas of the debutantes have been thrown into a frenzy upon discovering that the elderly Duke Howlett has finally started searching for a duchess.
CHAPTER ONE: THE LADY'S DILEMMA (COMING SOON!)
CHAPTER TWO: THE WILD GOOSE CHASE (TBA)
CHAPTER THREE: PEOPLE BETWEEN PEOPLE (TBA)
more chapters to come...
comment for tag list!
#logan howlett#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett smut#wolverine#logan wolverine#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett headcanon#logan xmen#old man logan smut#james logan howlett#james howlett#hugh jackman fanfiction#hugh jackman#hugh jackman smut#hugh jackman x reader#leopold mountbatten#old man!logan#old man logan
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