James Logan Howlett X You - Tumblr Posts

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

Weekend Getaway (wolverine/logan howlett x fem!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

wolverine/logan howlett x f!reader Word Count: 4.1K Rating: E

Summary: Logan surprises you with a romantic getaway to celebrate your 1-year anniversary together. He opens up about his intentions for the future with you and building a life together.

Or simply… Logan wants to know your thoughts on marriage and the possibility of children.

Warning: domestic!logan, established relationship, flirting, language, fluff, pet names, smutty flashback (blowjob), size kink, dirty talk (filthy logan), implied p in v sex, breeding kink, more implied smut (they are horny — it’s their anniversary), I guess reader has a nickname (doc), wealthy!logan (this will make sense once you read it)

A/N: This can be seen as part of my Into the Unknown universe, but this can be read as a standalone.

Previous (Part 1) (Part 2)

xx

Lake Mohonk, New York

One year.

A year filled with more light and laughter than he had ever thought possible.

One year. With you.

He sped down the winding roads of Hudson Valley, a warmth radiated through him, pulling a contented smile to his lips. The sun-drenched landscape blurred past, vibrant greens and golden hues melding together like a canvas. He stole a glance at you, the soft light filtering through his truck windows highlighting your features, and he felt an overwhelming surge of affection.

His fingers began to draw gentle patterns against the fabric of your jeans, tracing lazy circles and soft lines that sent a tingle up your spine. The warmth of his palm against your skin ignited a thrill of excitement. You couldn’t help but lean closer. With a playful spark in your eyes, you reached over the console, your lips finding his for a messy, and urgent kiss. He groaned when you bit at his lower lip and you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

“We’ve been driving for over an hour. Seriously, where are we going?” you asked.

He chuckled, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “I’m still not goin’ to tell you,” he replied, licking his lips.

You pouted at his teasing, your mind racing with possibilities. “You know I hate surprises,” you protested, playfully nudging him with your shoulder.

He glanced down at your hand, which had unconsciously found its way to his growing erection. You loved knowing that a simple kiss could get him going. “Doc,” he hissed, “we’re close, so stop your teasin’ and be a good girl,”

Good girl. A tingle started spreading between your legs.

The thought of celebrating your anniversary at Lake Mohonk, nestled south of the majestic Catskill Mountains, filled Logan with anticipation. He had planned this surprise and escape meticulously. You worked so hard, and he was happy you were able to get someone to cover your shift at the hospital tomorrow so that you two could enjoy the long weekend. He wanted to make this perfect for you.

Your pout deepened, frustration mingling with desire.

“Patience, Doc,” he said. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, focus shifting back to the road, while your eyes roamed over him, captivated by the way his jawline flexed and the hint of a smile played at his lips.

“Are you seriously declining road head?” you teased, but also felt your mouth water since you could see Logan straining through his jeans.

“Shut up,” he growled, his eyes flicking to you, desire pooling in those deep hazel depths before returning to the road. You knew what he was thinking of.

You couldn’t shake the heat of a recent memory where he had leaned back into the worn leather seat, and you had taken your time, savoring the moment as you unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink echoing in his truck. When you finally pulled down his zipper, the way he inhaled sharply sent a shiver of satisfaction through you. You remembered feeling the warmth of his skin as you wrapped your hand around him, and the soft gasp that escaped his lips. You had leaned in, your mouth inches away, teasing him with your breath until he’d groaned, a deep sound that reverberated within you, making your own pulse race.

As you finally took him into your mouth, the taste of him enveloped your senses. Each movement was deliberate and controlled, guided by the rhythm of his groans and soft curses. You could feel how he throbbed in your mouth, the pressure building as you found a sweet spot that had each snap of his hips get desperate as he thrust roughly into your sweet mouth until he hit the back of your throat, and you gagged while you watched him just so lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

You remembered glancing up, teary-eyed, meeting his eyes to see them dark with lust, his jaw clenched and the muscles in his neck taut as he tried to stifle the raw need that surged through him. The excitement of knowing you had him at the edge of his control sent waves of heat flooding through you, and a soft moan of pleasure escaped from your throat, sending vibrations through him. Finally, his body tensed, and he spilled hot down the back of your throat moaning out your name while you swallowed it down.

You leaned back in your seat as you allowed your fingers to slide back and forth across his thigh, testing the waters. “Maybe you should change your mind,” you countered playfully, biting your lip. “A little distraction could be fun.”

The tense muscles in his thigh flexed under your touch, and he shot you a warning glance that was only half-serious. “You don’t make it easy, do you?”

The road twisted ahead, lined with wildflowers and tall trees bursting with life, but all you could focus on was your handsome man beside you.

As Logan's truck rounded the final bend, the sprawling view of the Mohonk Mountain House came into sight. The sun, now beginning to dip low in the sky, enveloped the historic resort in a warm, golden glow, casting reflections off the shimmering waters of Lake Mohonk. Towering stone walls and ivy-covered terraces gave the place an air of timeless luxury, a fairytale Victorian castle resort seemingly plucked from the pages of a storybook.

You stared, your mouth agape, unable to process what lay before you. This wasn’t just a getaway; it was one of the most exclusive resorts in the region. Logan pulled into the parking lot, his demeanor calm and collected, but you could feel the excitement radiating from him.

“Logan,” you breathed, finally breaking the silence as he turned off the engine. “Are you serious? This place is… it’s incredible!” Your voice came out a mix of awe and disbelief, and you felt your heart flutter at the thought of spending a weekend here.

He turned to you, his hazel eyes sparkling with warmth. “I told you it would be worth the wait,” he said, a smug grin on his face. “I wanted to do somethin’ special for our anniversary, and I figured you deserved a little luxury after all your hard work.”

“Anniversary?” you questioned.

Logan's confident demeanor faltered just the slightest as he rubbed the back of his neck, an uncharacteristic shyness creeping onto his rugged features. The blush that crept across his cheeks only made him more endearing. “Well, about this time last year,” he murmured, a sheepish smile breaking across his face, “was when we started datin’ and stuff.”

“But the first time we slept together isn’t for a few weeks,” you said, tilting your head to the side.

Logan laughed, a low, rich sound that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Dirty girl…” he winked. “I’m countin’ from the first time I kissed you at the Harvest Festival,”

You felt your heart swell at his words, the memory of that first kiss replaying vividly in your mind. You were utterly taken aback by the depth of Logan's thoughtfulness. This gesture was big. It wasn’t that Logan wasn’t romantic; it was more that he expressed his love in ways you sometimes found hard to decipher. His main love language was rooted in acts of service—you had seen it time and time again. He showed his affection by helping you with tasks, and surprising you with little gestures that made your life easier. From the way he made sure you had your favorite coffee in the mornings to always taking care of the chores you dreaded, Logan poured his heart into the little things.

But this? This was something else entirely. This was grand. You had always seen him as someone who might shy away from overt romantic displays, preferring to communicate through the rhythm of daily life. The way he cared for you wasn’t loud or flashy; it was in the quiet and steadfast ways he made your world a better place.

You reached out, playful fingers brushing against his beard, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. “Okay, so one year from our first kiss,” you said, teasingly rolling your eyes. “I guess that’s still worth celebrating.”

Logan turned in his seat, resting his elbow on the console. “Get your ass outta this truck so we can check in and enjoy our suite. I’ve got plans, y’know?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Plans? What kind of plans? I mean, aside from getting me to fall for you all over again?”

You felt his lips —soft and teasing—trailing a path from your cheek down your neck. “You’re goin’ to be a good girl and take what I give you over and over again,” he murmured, against your ear.

You whimpered and bit your bottom lip, and felt the fabric of your panties get impossibly wet.

He then took your chin in his rough, calloused hand, tilting your face toward his. Your breath hitched as he closed the distance, his lips crashing down on yours, and you melted into the kiss. His hands moved deftly, sliding from your chin to the back of your neck, holding you in place as the kiss deepened, igniting a fire that spread through your body.

You responded eagerly, fingers running through his hair, feeling the tension in his shoulders as he pressed closer, the hard lines of his body pressing against you.

Pulling back slightly, Logan’s breath was ragged, eyes dark with desire as he searched your face. “And I’m goin’ to make you come over and over again until you’re beggin’ me to stop,” he muttered, his thumb grazing your bottom lip.

You knew from experience that Logan wasn’t just talk, he always executed on his promises, and the thought of him fucking you until your mind went blank had you ripping the truck door open and sprinting towards the resort entrance.

xx

After multiple rounds of Logan practically bending you in half, you had lost count of how many times he had made you come as you laid together on the mattress together, and you put your head on his chest feeling exhausted and sore. He was explaining your itinerary for the long weekend – a hiking trail tomorrow, on Friday. Canoeing on the lake on Saturday. And he had booked you a spa treatment on Sunday before you guys would drive back to Westchester.  

He emphasized that there would be a lot of fine dining and sex over the weekend as well.

You shook your head in disbelief, still processing the grandeur of the suite. Logan had booked the Victorian Mountain View Suite, and you couldn’t help but wonder how much money this all was. “This must’ve cost a fortune…,” you said, feeling an odd mix of gratitude and concern. “Are you sure we can afford this?”

While you were a doctor, you had barley been making any money as a resident. When you met Logan, you had just completed your fellowship and had only just become a board-certified attending physician. Even though you were a grown woman, it felt like you had only recently started making real money. When you and Logan moved in together, he felt the need to be the provider and didn’t want you to help pay the rent and basically covered all the bills. He would get so mad at you whenever you tried to spend money on yourself, or the two of you, and especially if it was just for him. You would always frown and tell him that you felt bad and would remind him that you made your own money, and he would always tell you, ‘I got you, Doc. Lemme take care of you.’ He had that ‘old school’ mentality considering the man was centuries old, but you always wondered, how could he afford to do all of this? Was Professor Xavier really paying the X-Men all that much in compensation?

Logan shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, the sheets tangled around his muscular frame as he looked down at you, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. The soft glow of the fading sunset peeked through the grand windows, enveloping the suite in a warm golden hue. You felt his gaze as he opened his mouth to respond.

“Alright, Doc,” he began, the playful tone lacing his voice making you smile. “You might want to sit up for this.”

Curiosity piqued, you pushed yourself up on your elbows, feeling your heart race. “What is it?” you asked, your voice laced with anticipation.

“Well, back in the 60’s, I made a pretty good investment.”

“An investment?” you echoed, slightly confused. “In what?”

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Xerox.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Xerox? The photocopier company?”

“Yep,” he replied, nodding like it was the most normal thing in the world. “There was all this hype bout’ their technology back then, and I saw the potential.”

Stunned, you took a moment to process his words. You were struggling to find you own words, caught somewhere between disbelief and awe. “Logan, that’s insane! Did you really make enough from that to—?”

“Let’s just say,” he interrupted, his smirk widening, “I held onto those shares for a few decades longer than most folks would think to. By the time the ‘90s rolled around, I was sittin’ pretty. Sold a majority of it. Enough to afford… whatever I want,” He gestured to the extravagant suite.

You shook your head. “Wow,”

Logan appreciated the strong, capable woman you were. You held your own as a physician, dedicated to your craft and committed to your career, but it also pained him to see you shoulder the weight of medical school debt. To him, it didn’t feel fair for you to bear so much, especially when he had decades’ worth of financial security at his fingertips. Logan wanted to be the one who could take care of you in a way that felt right—not in a patronizing way, but simply as a partner who cherished and adored you.

He honestly wanted to wipe away your medical school debt, but he knew you would tear him a new asshole for suggesting that. He could see the mental image of you with your hands on your hips, brow furrowed; your voice rising as you vehemently rejected the idea. You would shout about how you were perfectly capable of handling it on your own and he could already hear your retort, sharp and quick, ripping into him about pride and independence.

Logan's gaze softened, a contemplative look settling across his rugged features. “You know, I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about our future,” he began, his voice steady yet slightly hesitant. “You moved all the way from a large mountain house in Alberta to this tiny place near the X-Mansion for me, and I can’t help but feel like I owe you more than just this weekend.”

You blinked, stunned by the weight of his words. “You don’t owe me anything,”

He continued, vulnerability filling his tone. “I want you to feel comfortable, Doc. Our life together should be more than just an apartment—you deserve a home, a place where we can build memories. A house where we can settle. I’m thinkin’ of somethin’ a little more permanent. I want to buy us a real home, y’know?”

A whirlwind of emotions swirled in your chest as you processed his words. “A house?” you repeated.

Logan watched your face closely. He felt a surge of hope intertwined with fear running through him, the kind of fear that walked hand-in-hand with vulnerability. It was a new experience for him, this openness. The kind of thing he’d always shielded himself from, but for you, it felt natural, even necessary.

“Doc,” he began, his voice steady, though a sliver of nervousness crept in as he continued. “What are your thoughts on gettin’ married one day?”

There it was, the big question, the leap into something he’d never truly considered until now. He had spent centuries existing, but settling down, building a life with someone—it was new territory he was excited to explore, though the prospect of it terrified him.

He held onto your gaze, searching for any hint of unease. He watched as a smile stretched across your lips, brightening your expression and lighting a fire in his chest. “Logan,” you said softly, the way you always did when you wanted him to know you were in his corner. “I’ve thought about it,” you said shyly. “A lot, actually,” you admitted.

He could feel the tension ebb slightly, the knot in his stomach loosening, but it quickly tightened again when he shifted to the next question, the one that made even him feel vulnerable. “And kids?” He watched as your eyes widened a touch, the impact of his question hanging heavily between both.

Kids. The thought had crossed his mind, more than once. Even though he knew you were on birth control, there was a small part of him that couldn’t help but wonder. What if it failed? Or perhaps a part of him sometimes hoped you missed a day. The idea of you carrying his child stirred a mix of emotions within him. Fear, uncertainty, but also a flicker of excitement. The idea of creating a life together, of having someone who was part of both of you, was intoxicating.

Whenever you would whine and tell him to come inside of you, he would spill everything that was left of him inside your perfect cunt… wondering if one day it would stick. Sometimes it was him asking you… maybe even begging you if he could finish inside of you and telling you how much he needed it. He would paint your insides white, filling you up, and gasping your name with a guttural groan that vibrated from his chest.

He imagined what it would be like to have a child with you. Would they have your eyes? Your laugh? Could he teach them what it meant to be strong, to fight for what is right? It was a fleeting thought. But in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your presence, he couldn’t help but dream, even if only for a heartbeat, of what could be.

He felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. He searched your features for any signs of rejection, but instead of pulling away, you leaned closer, your brow furrowing in thought.

“Hey,” you started, your voice steady. “You really want to know what I think?”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, trying to keep his tone casual.

Taking a deep breath, you seemed to gather your thoughts—a trait he admired so much about you. “I think marriage is… a beautiful thing. I want it one day, not right this second, but the thought of saying ‘I do’ to you? That makes sense, Logan. It feels right.”

He felt a warmth spread through his chest at your words. But then he remembered his question about kids, and anxiety returned.

“But kids…” you continued, a slight nervousness creeping in—but you pressed on. “I want to have a family, eventually. And, I could picture it with you, you know? You… and me… kids—”

“Yeah?” he urged, his pulse quickening. The thought of you being the mother of his children—he could suddenly see it like a flash in his mind.

“But it’s a big step,” you said, your smile wavering just a bit, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the sheets. “I just want to make sure we’re ready for that part of our lives. I mean, can you even—”

“Can I what?” he asked, stubborn pride flaring up like it tended to do whenever he sensed hesitation in your words.

“Handle all that responsibility?” you said, fixing him with a sincere stare. “It’s not a small thing to have kids, Logan. It’s life-changing.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he leaned back against the headboard, stretching out his arms. He nodded, understanding what you were saying and appreciating the weight of it. “I get it, Doc. It’s not a small thing, but it’s somethin’ I want. With you. And… only you.”

“Logan…” you said, searching for the right words. The gravity of his confession intertwined with your emotions, and it was hard to articulate the feeling swirling within you. “I want that too,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “It’s scary to think about, but I can see it. With you. And only you, too,” you parroted back, tracing a finger along the line of his jaw.

“If we were to, y’know, have kids… there’s a chance they could be mutants. Would that… would that bother you?” he murmured, his voice laced with a seriousness that made you pull back slightly, searching his gaze.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, grounding him in your comfort. “Of course, it wouldn’t bother me, if anything, it would make them even more special.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features, a crease forming between his brows as he absorbed your response. “Really?” he said, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit.

“Really,” you affirmed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against his lips, before pulling away.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, a grounding gesture that settled your racing heart. “I’m not rushin’ you. I just wanted to know how you feel about it. ‘Cause I see a future with you. A real one,”

Your eyes glistened while you gazed up lovingly at him, and your hands came up to card through his hair. “I love you so much Logan,”

“I love you too, Doc,” he replied, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.

As you settled back into the tangle of sheets, it felt as if the world outside ceased to exist— it was just the two of you in this room.

“You know,” you murmured softly, resting your head on his shoulder, “Just because apparently you’re fucking rich doesn’t mean that we’re getting one of those McMansions in Westchester,”

Logan chuckled, the warm rumble in his chest causing a flutter deep inside you. “Don’t worry. I have no interest in those cookie-cutter places. I’m thinkin’ somethin’ more personal— with character, y’know?” he said.

You smiled, picturing it: a cozy home with wood accents and a welcoming front porch under the shade of towering trees. A place where you could create lasting memories, filled with laughter, love, and maybe a little chaos if your future kids had anything to say about it. “I can see that,” you said, your voice softer as you allowed yourself to dream.

"Mmhm," he grunted.

“Just promise me one thing,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

“Anythin’ baby,” he replied, genuine sincerity resting in every word.

“Right before we build our dream house, you’re not going to sell any more investments without consulting me first,” you teased, the corners of your mouth quirking up into a smile.

“I promise,” he said.

The laughter that bubbled between you filled the room, a soothing balm for the more serious conversation that had just unfolded. Logan wrapped you tighter in his embrace, your head continuing to rest comfortably against his shoulder as he drifted into a serene silence. You could hear the steady thump of his heartbeat.

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, leaving behind streaks of peach and violet across the sky, you felt the weight of the day lift.

“Hey, baby,” Logan’s voice broke through your thoughts, warm and inviting.

“Yeah?” you replied, looking up at him, heart fluttering at the adoration in his gaze.

“You wanna make some more new memories tonight?” he asked playfully.

“If you mean by letting you worship me, then yes,” you replied cheekily.

With a smirk, Logan leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Oh, I plan on worshipin’ you, alright,” he murmured, his voice low and alluring. His fingertips began to roam, trailing teasing patterns along your arm, sending shivers of anticipation through your body.

You giggled softly, feeling a delightful thrill at the invitation his words promised. “You’re insatiable,” you teased.

Logan captured your mouth, and you moaned softly against his lips, feeling your desire building once more as his warm hands slid beneath your shirt, gliding over the soft skin of your abdomen.

As he pulled you closer, he marveled at how easily you could bridge the barrier of his past—two hundred years of heartache and solitude softened by the warmth of your love. In that moment, he knew, whatever the future held—the house, marriage, kids —it would all be worth it, as long as he faced it with you.

And if you became his wife – maybe you wouldn’t complain about him wiping away your medical school debt…

xx

I think it’s the end for these two, I was brain-rotting on this 3-parter fic with the idea of domestic AF Logan. He fucking deserves it. Happy to take requests if people are interested in seeing additional moments of these two!

The Xerox idea came from the movie the Age of Adaline when a woman born in the early 1900’s stops aging following a freak accident, and they provided a background story for how she was able to afford her lifestyle in this current day and age with the Xerox investment. There’s a part of me that would like to think that Logan would have done something similar having spent so much time on earth, and he would just be a secret multimillionaire who lived a super humble life. There’s just something about him being a fucking hot lumberjack / X-Men member who’s also secretly wealthy that turns me on to no end.

wealthy!logan… somebody SEDATE me.

Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging.