#wolverine reaction

[heavenlytouches]

Loved by a real man

⋆˚✿˖°

Just thought of this small drabble. I can't kick Wolverine out of my head and something about screams HE LOVES LIKE A MAN!

Just stay with my babes

El <3

To be loved by a REAL man is to appreciate and be appreciated. The kind of love in which you find comfort and calm in each other. You can remain silent and simply enjoy their warmth, sweet aroma, and calm heartbeat, which will lull you both to sleep.

To be loved by a REAL man, to comfort and be comforted. His head rests on your breast, gently rising and falling with each breath you take. Every time he says "I love you," you get small warm goosebumps down your spine.

Simply the purest and warmest form of love. Smiling at each other, dancing in the rain, and spending peaceful evenings thereafter. Caring for each other is the purest form of love, knowing he is your other half.

To be loved by a REAL man

I was thinking to write something like this about Logan(Wolverine) for a looong time. He's really underrated and we need more fics about him. HMU if you'd like to see something like that!

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[kendyroy]

“They gave me runway in this film. There’s one monologue in there. I can’t tell you the details of it. I say more words in that monologue than I said in an entire movie once as Wolverine. But there are sides of the character that I’ve been scratching at for 24 years […] There is stuff in this movie where I was like, ‘This is the thing I’ve been trying to get out’ and I feel so excited about it.”

— Hugh Jackman talking about Logan in Deadpool & Wolverine (x)

[sceletaflores]

no logan actually has me in a chokehold, all I can think of is him being away for a mission but you’re so needy for him that you grab one of his flannels and ball it up and shove it in between your legs and then basically humping it to get off, and maybe he comes back early from said mission and you don’t hear him come in so he’s just watching you for a while before he’s had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands, btw love your writing keep up the good work!!💕💕

nat’s note: i read this and immediately had to put my phone down and walk away to breathe for a second. your mind is so beautiful anon, thanks a bunch for sharing! hope you love it <333

|| feat. logan howlett x fem!reader || 18+ SMUT MDNI ||

Six days is a long time.

Six days without Logan is almost unbearable.

The first three days were fine, nice even. You had the whole house to yourself, free to sprawl out on the couch and binge watch the guilty pleasure shows he always makes fun of.

The quiet was a welcome change—you could really relax, could sit with your thoughts.

Then day four rolled around, and things changed.

You started to notice the little things—the leather jacket he left slung over the back of the dining room table chair, the way the bed felt too big without him, how cold you were at night without him plastered to your back.

By day five, the quiet wasn’t soothing anymore; it felt empty.

You missed the sound of his voice, missed his scent melded in the sheets of your bed, missed the warmth of his body next to yours.

And by day six? Well, six days without Logan wasn’t just lonely anymore—it was a special kind of torture.

It wasn’t just the emotional closeness or the comfort of his presence you longed for—it was the rough scrape of his stubble on your skin, the way his body pressed into yours, heavy and demanding. The way his voice dropped when he growled your name, hands gripping your hips with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t just miss him, you craved him.

It was settling in an unbearable ache, low in your stomach. A constant thrum that served as a reminder of just how much you missed his touch.

You didn't realize just how spoiled he'd gotten you. You haven't gone a day without at least four orgasms all year. Logan made sure of that, enforces it like it's a house rule he'd die before breaking.

You’d gotten too used to the feel of his hands roaming over your body, the way his lips traveled from your mouth down to the space between your thighs, the way his cock brushes against that special spot inside you each time he slides home in your pussy.

Your body longed for him in a way that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Every thought seemed to circle back to Logan, to what it would feel like to have him here, right now.

The worst part—no amount of toys or creative use of your hands was enough to soothe that ache. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to satisfy yourself; nothing worked.

The frustration was unbearable.

You blame that for your lapse in judgement when you made your way into your shared closet.

It was completely innocent at first, just you looking for something to wear to bed.

You only happened to trip over a shirt Logan must have left strewn across the floor before leaving. One of his favorites, a worn down brown and red flannel you'd seen him in countless times.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you bent down and scooped it up, burying your face in it. His scent—earthy, woodsy, and unmistakably him—hit you like a freight train as heat began to pool between your legs.

Suddenly, it was like Logan was there, surrounding you completely, teasing you with his absence. The ache deepened, twisting into something even more unbearable.

It was almost too much. That raw desire you’d been trying to hold at bay snapped its leash, and suddenly, the thought of going to bed wasn’t even an option.

You were already soaking wet by the time you made it to bed, greedy lungfuls of Logan's scent enough to get you there in no time.

The flannel was warm in your hands, the roughed up fabric felt oddly comforting against your fingertips and the skin of your cheeks.

As you settled onto the mattress, a thought crept in. Wicked and indulgent in a way that made your ears burn with shame and your stomach swirl with heady arousal that fanned the fire raging between your legs.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid your panties off, your body already tingling with anticipation

You pulled the shirt between your legs, pressing it against your dripping core, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a vice.

You moaned at the feeling, the first rush of relief flowing through you like water through a desert. The friction, the smell, it was almost like he was in bed with you, touching you, guiding your movements. But no matter how nice it felt, it still wasn’t enough.

The ache was only just lessened, the thrum of need was still there, undeniable and persistent.

With a whine, you leaned back on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, and you started to rock your hips against the fabric. Every movement sent delicious waves of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t the same. Not quite. You needed more—needed him.

Your fingers gripped the flannel tighter, dragging it harder against your aching clit. Eyes squeezing shut, you let out a desperate moan, hips working so fast the bed frame started thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the fantasy of him—of him under you, of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His voice low and gravelly as he whispered filthy things in your ear.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you were so lost in your thoughts, so caught up in the moment, that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps making their way through the house, getting closer and closer.

But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, your eyes shot wide, and there he was.

Logan, home a day early.

He’s stood in the doorway. His sharp gaze locked on you, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something else—something dangerous.

Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, but your body refused to stop moving, hips still grinding slowly against his flannel as if they have a mind of their own.

You expect him to say something, to scold you, maybe—but instead, a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face.

Without breaking eye contact, he crosses the room, shedding his leather jacket with a deliberate slowness as he does. He drops into the chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I didn't say to slow down," he growls, the edge in his voice making your stomach flip. "Keep going, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

The command in his voice was irresistible. Your body responding before your mind could even catch up, hips rolling against the flannel faster again, a soft whimper slipping from your lips. The friction feels even better knowing he’s watching, eyes dark and heavy with desire as he sees you fall apart.

"Logan, please" you gasp, hips moving faster.

"Please what, darlin'?" he hums.

"I don't- ah! Anything, please," you rush out, eyes glued to the obscene spread of his legs, where his strong thighs stretch the thick denim taught.

Logan shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "No, you wanna get yourself off without me you do it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, baby."

You whine, high and loud as tears burn at your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I can't," you sob, voice tiny and pitiful in the quiet of the room.

"Don't be like that, princess," he chastises, clicking his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Know you can come just like this. Bet that pussy's been drippin' for days, huh?"

You nod pitifully, biting down on your lip as your legs starting trembling on either side of the balled up shirt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice dripping with lust. “So needy you couldn’t even wait for me, huh? You missed my cock that bad?”

You nod again breathless, the pressure building between your thighs becoming unbearable as his words wash over you.

“Bet you were thinkin’ about me, weren't you?” His voice drops, rich and syrupy, and it crawls over your skin like a slow burn. “All this time, wishing it was me between your legs instead of that fucking shirt.”

Your movements grow more frantic, eyes dropping to his lap, zeroing in on where his thick cock presses against his thigh, tenting his jeans lewdly. Your mouth waters, lips dropping open with a quiet moan as you imagine him slipping between them, fucking your throat and making your jaw ache.

“Such a dirty little thing,” he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You like putting on a show for me, don’t you? Gettin' off starin' at my cock while you fuck yourself with my shirt? Goddamn, I can see how fuckin' soaked you are from here.”

The flannel was soaked now, wet and clinging to your folds as you desperately rub yourself against it, your body trembling with need. Every roll of your hips makes you more desperate, more sensitive, pleasure coiling tight in your belly and almost ready to snap.

Your moans grow louder, filling the room as you chase your release, the rough fabric of his flannel dragging against your swollen clit in all the right ways. Logan watching you—making you do this—had you teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in sharp pants.

His voice was a constant stream of filth, each word sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“Atta' girl, that's it,” he rasps, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me. Drench that shirt, baby. Make a mess of it. I’ll fuck you right after, promise.”

You were teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling with need as you rock against the flannel harder, faster, desperate for release.

"Come on, baby," he goads, leaning forward in his chair, eyes burning with something feral as he licks his lips. "If you get it nice and dirty for me, I'll wear it for you."

That was all it took. The thought of Logan walking around in his shirt after this, the fabric soaked with your essence, staking your claim on him, has you coming.

Your body shudders violently as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, hips jerking erratically against the flannel as you cry out his name, hot tears spilling freely down your cheeks.

Logan growls in satisfaction, eyes locked on you, watching as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He stands from the chair, slow and deliberate, stalking toward the bed with a dark gleam in his eyes as his hands drop to his belt.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, voice thick with desire as he climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. His lips brush your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn, baby. And I ain’t even close to done with you yet.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

a/n: wow this really got away from me lmao...it was not supposed to be so long ANDDD sorry for the low-key fade to black ending but I had no idea how to end this heheh okay bye love you!

[caphooksstuff]

This is all I could thing about the first time I watched the movie and saw Dogpool and Wade interact. I had to make it.

[luvrloki]

this is literally deadpool and wolverine

[iwasbored777]

Me late at night reading Wade x Logan smut fics about them doing it in that car instead of going to sleep like a normal person:

[brainrotcharacters]

"the worst Wolverine" (a term of endearment. A flirtation. A teasing.)

[moths-obsessions]

oh no i'm feminizing wade guys please stop me

[ur-fave-bloggers-fave-blogger]

watched dp and wolverine yesterday and that scene where hugh jackmans shirt is ripped off to reveal that he is in fact ripped himself was so unnecessary because they should've removed his jeans too not for the viewers but because that factor would've been crucially important to the plot and

[scojean]

[kendyroy]

they should’ve kept this in the movie

[rubbish78]

[mannyblacque]

The magic we experienced watching Deadpool & Wolverine.

IYKYK

via Aurum Theater

[heavenlytouches]

Hugh Jackman- birthday surprise

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა

GN reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- none

You surprised Hugh for his birthday! :D

Cuteness overload TwT

Hugh Jackman

You step into the luxurious atmosphere of Le Lumière, the restaurant that sparkles like the stars suspended above the Parisian skyline.

It’s October 12th, a date that holds an especially bright place in your heart because it’s the birthday of none other than Hugh Jackman.

The soft golden glow of candlelight flickers against the crisp white tablecloths, creating an intimate setting that seems to wrap around you both like a warm hug.

You've put in a lot of effort for this surprise, drawing inspiration from everything you know about him- the simple things that bring him joy, the little moments he cherishes.

The restaurant is adorned with his favorite flowers, milky white roses, adding a touch of elegance to the warmth of your meticulously planned evening. As you wait for him to arrive, your heart flutters with nervous excitement. What will his reaction be? You’ve invited Ryan, Blake and a few close friends, but it’s the gentle atmosphere of intimacy that you hope will make this moment special.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and there he is- Hugh, looking dashing as ever in a tailored navy suit that accentuates his tall frame and sculpted features.

His hair, slightly tousled, provides a hint of boyish charm, and his smile radiates warmth that could melt glaciers.

“Surprise!”

You exclaim, the words bursting out of you like confetti.

Hugh's eyes widen, momentarily speechless. Then, that signature grin breaks out, lighting up the entire room as he steps inside.

“You did all this?”

He asks, clearly overwhelmed, an emotional sparkle wavering in his hazel eyes, as they dance from the ornately set table to the familiar faces of friends gathered in the corner.

“I wanted to do something special for your big day..”

You reply, feeling the warmth spread through your body as you step closer to him. You take his hands in yours, feeling the strength in his grip.

“You mean so much to me.”

Hugh blinks back a few unshed tears, keeping his emotions in check like the true “real man” he is, but the twinkle in his eyes betrays his joy.

“I can’t believe you went through all this trouble. You know, it’s my 56th birthday, and yet here I am feeling like a kid on Christmas morning.”

His admission makes your heart swell with happiness. You can’t help but smile.

"You deserve it, Hugh. You’ve given so much to the world- now it’s your turn to feel the love.”

The evening unfolds like a blissful dream. Laughter and delectable food flow effortlessly as the guests mingle and enjoy the festive spirit. A renowned pianist begins to play romantic melodies, filling the air with a beautiful soundtrack to the moments you’ll both cherish forever.

As the main course ends, you glance over at Hugh, who is engaged in animated conversation with Ryan across the table. When your eyes meet, he shoots you a wink that ignites your heart, and for a split second, the world around you fades, drawing you in. It’s a moment you wish to bottle and save forever.

“Okay, everyone, it’s time for cake!”

You declare, ushering out a sparkling dessert that stands proudly, adorned with candles flickering in a soft breeze.

“Make a wish, Hugh!”

He closes his eyes, the light dancing across his handsome face as he takes a deep breath. You focus on the way his brows furrow slightly in concentration, the lightheartedness of the moment juxtaposed against the weight of the years he’s seen.

“Alright!”

He finally says, and with a swift blow, the candles flicker out.

The room erupts in cheers, and Hugh beams at you, the happiness glimmering like starlight in his eyes.

“Now, what do I wish for?”

He muses, leaning ever so slightly closer.

“Maybe for the ability to find my way into your heart...”

Your breath hitches as you feel the weight of both the words and the warmth nestled between your parted bodies.

“Hugh,” You say softly, emotion bubbling up within you.

“You’ve always had a way inside my heart.”

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling low like distant thunder during the sweetest summer rain.

“Alright then, that’s one wish down.”

He raises his glass, a playful glint in his eye.

“To love- and to every birthday we get to celebrate together. To us, to me, you and all these wonderful people here!”

You all clink glasses, feeling the magic of the moment surround you like a gentle wave.

And just like that, you both know that age is merely a number, that the connection you share transcends the years and circumstances. Time doesn’t matter when it’s filled with laughter, emotion, and the authentic warmth of true attraction.

As he leans in closer to your side, you feel the soft brush of his shoulder against yours, a simple yet profound reminder that you are both living a beautiful story- together, right here, within the comforting embrace of love.

Yaaaaaay happy (late) birthday to Hugh Jackman <33 I adore this one, not even kidding TwT

Kinda proud of myself ngl

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much <33

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[luvrloki]

[a-leg-without-fear]

i’m losing my SHIT

LOOK AT THIS MAN