trickstersteve - Tumblr blog

trickstersteve · 6 months ago

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EXCUSE ME?! NO? NO! NO!

Among Thieves VII |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: cowboy!logan x preacher’s daughter!reader, 18+ f!original character, fluffy, angst, smut, mentions of pregnancy, blood, death (as requested - one final chapter)

The days leading up to the wedding are filled with excitement and a touch of chaos. Adelaide's sisters flit about the farmhouse, helping her with everything from arranging flowers to hemming the dress. The barn is transformed into a warm, rustic venue, with lanterns strung along the beams and hay bales arranged for seating. Adelaide finds herself swept up in the whirlwind of preparation, her heart fluttering at the thought of becoming Logan's wife.

Logan, however, is harder to pin down. He spends much of his time on the outskirts of town, returning to the farmhouse late at night. He doesn't say much about what he's been doing, and while Adelaide is curious, she doesn't press him.

One such night, Logan slips into her room, as he's grown fond of doing, and finds her waiting for him, her hair loose and her eyes bright with unspoken questions.

"Where have you been?" She asks softly, tilting her head as he crosses the room to her. "You've been so busy lately. Is everything alright?

Logan doesn't answer right away. Instead, he sits on the edge of her bed, pulling her into his lap with an ease that makes her smile bashfully. He kisses her deeply, his hands roaming her waist and leaving her breathless. "It's nothing you need to worry about.” He murmurs against her lips, his voice low and full of promise. Adelaide lets herself sink into his touch, the question lingering but unspoken. She knows Logan too well by now - if he wanted her to know, he'd tell her. Whatever he's been working on, it's for her, for them, and that knowledge is enough to put her at ease.

"You're keeping secrets from me now?" She teases, her voice light as she traces the line of his jaw with her fingers.

Logan smirks, his eyes dark and amused. "Just one," He admits, nipping at her lip. "But you'll like it. Trust me."

And she does. Completely.

The day before their wedding dawns bright and warm, the kind of day that makes everything seem touched with magic. Logan arrives at the farmhouse just after breakfast, tipping his hat to the preacher and exchanging a few polite words before finding Adelaide in the barn with her sisters. She’s busy arranging flowers for the tables, her hands moving deftly, her laughter filling the space.

“Hey there,” Logan says softly from behind her, his voice low enough that only she hears. She turns, her smile brightening when she sees him. “Spare a second for me, darlin’?”

“What is it?” She asks, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Logan grins and holds out his hand. “Just trust me.”

Her sisters tease as she takes his hand, but Adelaide barely notices as Logan leads her to his horse. They ride together, Logan’s arms securely around her waist as he takes her to the outskirts of town, where the landscape opens to a view of the river below.

When they reach a clearing, Logan helps her down and guides her toward a small house nestled in the trees. Adelaide’s breath catches as she takes in the simple but sturdy structure, the light wood glowing softly in the sun.

“This is…this is ours?” She whispers, turning to him with wide eyes.

Logan nods, his face softening as he watches her reaction. “I’ve been working on it the past few weeks. Your father helped me find the spot.” Adelaide covers her mouth, overwhelmed with emotion, and then throws herself into his arms, kissing him deeply. Logan chuckles, holding her close before leading her into the house.

Inside, the space smells of fresh wood and wildflowers. A makeshift cot sits in the center of the floor, surrounded by bouquets of vibrant blooms Logan must have picked himself. The sight makes her heart ache with love. “Logan…” She begins, but he silences her with a kiss, slow and deliberate.

“I couldn’t wait to show you,” He murmurs against her lips, his hands sliding down her waist. “Wanted you to see where we’ll start our life, just the two of us.”

Adelaide’s cheeks flush as Logan steps closer, his voice dropping to that dark, possessive tone that makes her weak. “This house, this land, this life - it’s ours, Addie. You’re mine, and I’m yours. I’ll take care of you, make you happy, and anyone who tries to come between us…” His lips curl into a smirk. “Well, they won’t try twice.” Adelaide’s heart races, her breath hitching at the way he looks at her, like she’s the only thing that matters. She pulls him into a fierce kiss, her hands clutching at his shirt. Logan lets her take what she wants for a moment before he takes control, guiding her toward the cot. “You trust me, don’t you?” He asks, his lips brushing her ear as his hands settle on her hips.

“Always.” Adelaide whispers, her voice trembling with love and anticipation.

The sun filters through the windows of their new home, casting a golden glow on the wildflowers Logan had carefully arranged. Adelaide is barely aware of her surroundings, lost in the overwhelming presence of Logan, who holds her with a possessive strength she craves. His hands explore her with reverence and hunger, his touch leaving a trail of fire along her skin as he lowers her onto the cot. He leans over her, his lips ghosting along her jawline before whispering in that deep, commanding tone that makes her shiver. “You know this is just the start, don’t you? I’ll give you everything, Addie. Every dream you’ve ever had will be ours.”

Adelaide’s breath catches as he moves against her, his words fueling the ache that has consumed her since he brought her here. “Logan…” She whispers, her voice trembling with both love and longing.

“I’m going to take care of you,” He continues, his lips brushing her ear as his hands undo the ties of her dress. “You’ll never have to doubt that. You’ll never want for anything. And you’ll give me what I want, won’t you?” She can’t respond, her voice stolen by the way he moves, the way he takes control so effortlessly. Her silence makes him grin, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that’s both tender and unrelenting. “I’ll make you a mother,” He murmurs against her lips, his tone dark and possessive as he aligns himself with her, her thighs trembling around his waist. “Our children will run through these fields, Addie. Our family will grow in this house. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

The promise sends a shiver down her spine, and she clings to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Oh, Logan!” She cries softly, pulling him down to her and Logan watches her fall apart beneath him, utterly captivated by her reactions, by the way she surrenders to him completely.

“Look at you,” He whispers, his voice rough with admiration as his thrusts keep a slow and loving pace, wanting her to feel every bit of him inside her. “You love when I take what’s mine, don’t you? You love knowing you belong to me.” Adelaide can only nod, her voice lost in the overwhelming pleasure he’s bringing her. She arches into him, the sound of his deep, satisfied growl sending her spiraling. “You’re perfect, Addie,” He says, his lips trailing down her neck. “You were made for me. Don’t you see that?”

“Logan,” She whispers his name, trembling beneath him, and Logan cups her face, his thumb brushing her cheek.

His eyes soften for a moment as he presses a tender kiss to her lips. “I love you, Addie.” He says, his voice raw and honest.

Adelaide gazes up at him, her heart full, her body trembling with the intensity of his love. “I love you too.” She whispers, her voice breaking as he kisses her again, sealing his promises with every thrust, every word, every touch. Adelaide trembles, her fingers gripping the planes of his broad shoulders as he consumes her. She’s never felt anything as overwhelming as this - Logan’s raw, possessive love wrapping around her like a force of nature.

His hands guide her with firm control, drawing her closer until there’s no space left between them. “Say it, Adelaide,” Logan demands softly, his voice a dangerous, intoxicating whisper. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” She whispers, her voice trembling as tears of pleasure fill her eyes.

Logan presses his forehead against hers, his hips slow and deliberate as he lets his words take hold in her heart. “That’s right. Always mine.” Adelaide’s cries are muffled against his chest as the intensity of his love and his possessiveness pushes her to the edge, and she falls apart in his arms. Logan holds her through her release, his own restraint unraveling as he whispers more dark, intimate promises of their future together. “You’ve ruined me, Addie,” He groans, his grip tightening. “Theres no going back for me now. You’re my everything.”

As they lie together in the makeshift cot surrounded by wildflowers, Adelaide feels utterly claimed, cherished, and safe. Every word Logan whispered lingers in her mind, a reminder of the unyielding love and obsession they share.

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of their unfinished home, bathing the room in a warm glow. Logan lay with Adelaide tucked into his side, her fingers lazily tracing circles on his chest as they talked. Neither speaks of the day’s significance yet - they’re content in the quiet moments, talking softly about nothing in particular.

“Think we should put the kitchen over there?” Adelaide muses, pointing toward a corner of the room.

Logan smirks, his hand trailing idly up and down her arm. “As long as you promise to keep me fed, you can put it wherever you want.”

Adelaide laughs softly, her voice light and carefree. “I think I’ll keep you around, cowboy. Someone’s gotta split the firewood.”

Logan chuckles, turning his head to press a kiss to her temple. “Anything for you, Addie. You know that.”

The serenity of the moment is interrupted by a firm knock at the door. Logan tenses immediately, his instincts kicking in. Adelaide sits up, clutching the blanket to her chest as Logan pulls on his pants and moves to answer the door. When he opens it, he’s met with the familiar face of Caleb. Logan’s jaw tightens, his hand resting near the doorframe to ground himself, but Caleb raises his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Easy, Logan,” Caleb says, his voice low and earnest. “I ain’t here to start trouble. Came to warn you.” He glances past Logan into the house, his eyes briefly landing on Adelaide before shifting back to him. “Came in good faith, I swear it.”

Logan steps outside onto the porch, closing the door halfway to shield Adelaide from the conversation. “You’ve got about thirty seconds to explain before I decide I don’t care.”

“Just figured you oughta know - Eli’s gone rogue.” He said gruffly, his tone lacking its usual cockiness.

Logan’s expression darkened. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means he ain’t listenin’ to nobody no more,” Caleb explained, stepping closer so his voice wouldn’t carry. “He’s been stirrin’ up trouble, talkin’ ‘bout comin’ back here to settle things. He’s still smartin’ over what you did to him, and he’s got it in his head to make you pay.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He glanced over his shoulder at Adelaide, who was watching them with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You think he’d come after her?” Logan asked, his voice deadly calm.

Caleb hesitated, then nodded. “If he thinks it’d hurt you, yeah. You know Eli - he don’t care ‘bout collateral damage.”

Logan’s gaze hardened. “Thanks for the warning,” He said curtly. “But if Eli shows his face ‘round here, he won’t leave alive.”

Caleb gave a solemn nod, his expression grave. “I figured as much. Just…watch your back, Logan. And hers too.” Logan didn’t respond, merely closing the door as Caleb turned to leave. He leaned against the frame for a moment, his mind racing.

“What’s wrong?” Adelaide asked softly, sitting up on the cot and pulling the blanket up more securely.

Logan crossed the room and sat beside her, his hand finding hers. “Nothin’ for you to worry about,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “Just an old problem tryin’ to make itself new.”

Adelaide searched his face, sensing the tension in his posture. “Logan…”

He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin. “I’ll take care of it, Addie. I promise. Ain’t nobody gonna touch you or come between us.”

Though her worry didn’t fade entirely, Adelaide nodded, trusting him. “Okay.” She said quietly.

Even as the day begins, the weight of Caleb’s warning lingers in the back of Logan’s mind. He knows Eli won’t back down, but Logan is ready for him. Nothing will ruin this day - not for him and not for Adelaide.

The church is filled to the brim with townsfolk, a quiet hum of excitement buzzing in the air. The pews are decorated with simple wildflowers, the soft scent of lavender and daisies mingling with the smell of wood and candle wax. Logan stands at the front, his broad shoulders rigid but his fingers nervously twitching at his sides. He’s not used to being the center of attention, not in moments like this. Yet, when he glances at the pews on his side and sees the men from the cattle ranch - Jeb and the others, dressed in their best and grinning back at him - something inside him softens.

He hadn’t expected to feel this way, seeing people there for him. For them.

The chatter dies down as the soft strains of the organ begin to play. Logan glances back towards the church entrance, and the moment Adelaide steps into the doorway, every thought he had evaporates. She’s radiant, her simple white gown catching the light, a small bouquet of wildflowers in her hands. Her sisters helped braid her hair and pin it back with daisies, but it’s her smile that takes his breath away. His Adelaide, walking toward him, a vision of grace and everything he never thought he deserved.

The preacher escorts her down the aisle, his expression a mixture of pride and bittersweet joy. As they reach the front, her father places her hand in Logan’s and looks him squarely in the eye. “Take care of her.” He says, his voice low but firm.

Logan nods, his grip on Adelaide’s hand tightening as he answers, “Always.”

The ceremony begins, led by Adelaide’s father. The crowd listens quietly, the warmth of the moment spreading through the room. Logan and Adelaide’s hands remain joined, a steady anchor for both of them as they exchange smiles.

When it’s time for the vows, Logan goes first. He clears his throat, his rough voice softening as he speaks. “Adelaide,” He begins, looking down at her, “I ain’t a man of fancy words, but you’ve got my heart in a way I didn’t think was possible. You’ve made me better - shown me that I could have a life worth living, worth fightin’ for. I promise to keep you safe, to love you fiercely, and to be the man you deserve. You’re my everything, darlin’, and I’ll spend every day provin’ it to you.”

Adelaide’s eyes glisten as she smiles up at him. She squeezes his hand and begins her vows, her voice trembling with emotion. “Logan, I’ve prayed for a love like this - for a man who sees me for who I am and loves me all the same. With you, I feel safe. I feel cherished. You’ve given me a strength I didn’t know I had, and I promise to stand by you through everything. I’ll love you with all my heart, as your wife and your partner, for all the days of my life.”

There’s a quiet sniffle in the crowd, followed by a low chuckle as Logan smirks, recognizing Jeb trying to play off his emotions. Her father clears his throat, moving forward with the rings. As they exchange them, Logan’s hands are surprisingly steady as he slides the band onto Adelaide’s finger, her soft gasp making his heart race.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Her father says, his voice full of pride. “Logan, you may kiss your bride.” Logan doesn’t hesitate. He pulls Adelaide into his arms, his kiss firm and unrestrained, drawing a delighted laugh from the crowd. Adelaide melts into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, the world fading away as it becomes just the two of them. When they pull apart, the preacher chuckles, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Logan Howlett.”

The church erupts into applause, and Logan takes Adelaide’s hand, grinning as they turn to face their friends and family. As they walk down the aisle together, Logan leans close to her ear and murmurs, “You’re mine now, Mrs. Howlett. For always.”

Adelaide’s cheeks flush, but she smiles up at him, her heart full. “And you’re mine, Mr. Howlett. For always.”

The farmhouse is alive with celebration, the warm glow of lanterns spilling out into the yard as laughter and music fill the air. The reception is simple yet full of joy, a gathering of the people who know and love Logan and Adelaide best. Long tables are laden with food, and the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked pies mingles with the crisp evening air. Logan stands near the barn, a glass of whiskey in his hand, chatting with the cattlemen.

They joke and slap him on the back, a grin on his face as they rib him good-naturedly. “So, Logan,” Jeb drawls, grinning, “You plannin’ on expandin’ the Howlett family soon? Or you just gonna enjoy the quiet life for a while?”

Logan smirks, taking a slow sip before answering. “We’ll see what the good Lord has in mind,” He says, his tone teasing but his expression unreadable. The men laugh, nudging him knowingly. “One step at a time.” He chuckles, but there's a gleam in his eye that gives him away.

"Yeah, sure," One of them quips, "But don't act like you haven't thought about it."

"Let me enjoy bein' a husband first." Logan smirks, his gaze already searching the crowd for Adelaide. It doesn't take long to find her. She's by the dessert table, talking with her sisters, her smile lighting up the evening. Logan excuses himself from the conversation, his feet already carrying him toward her.

As he reaches her, he slips an arm around her waist, pulling her gently but possessively into his side. Adelaide looks up at him, her cheeks flushed from the wine and the warmth of the evening. "Having fun, Mrs. Howlett?" He murmurs, his voice low enough that only she can hear.

She smiles, leaning into him. "I am, Mr. Howlett. And you?"

"Always, when I'm with you." He presses a kiss to her temple and whispers against her skin, "But I'm lookin' forward to later, just you and me."

The heat in Adelaide's face deepens, and she swats at his chest playfully. "Behave yourself, Logan." He just grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he lets her go, watching as she's pulled into a conversation with another guest.

As the night goes on, a few of the younger men muster the courage to ask Adelaide to dance. Logan watches from the sidelines, his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze ensuring no one steps out of line. The men keep their hands respectfully on her waist, aware of the formidable figure watching their every move.

One of the ranch hands jokes, “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor watchin’ her like that.”

Logan smirks. “She’s my wife. I’ll look at her all I want.”

When she returns to him, breathless and glowing from the dancing, he pulls her close again. "You're the most beautiful thing here.” He says softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

"And you're the most handsome.” She replies, resting her hand on his chest.

As the evening winds down, a few heartfelt toasts are made. Adelaide’s father speaks first, his words filled with pride and hope for the couple. Jeb follows with a lighter tone, raising his glass to “the toughest son of a gun I’ve ever worked with, and the woman brave enough to love him.” The crowd cheers, and Logan raises his glass, his gaze locked on Adelaide’s across the room. The love and affection in his eyes are plain for anyone to see. The festivities wind down with more dancing and toasts, Adelaide’s sisters insist on one last dance with her, laughing as they spin her around while Logan watches, his heart full.

As the guests begin to leave, Logan and Adelaide stand hand in hand, bidding everyone goodnight. Her father pulls Logan into a firm handshake, his eyes shining with unspoken approval. Finally, with the crowd dispersed and the farmhouse quiet, Logan takes Adelaide’s hand, leading her to the waiting horse and helping her up before climbing on behind her. They ride in silence under the stars, the cool night air wrapping around them as the little house Logan built comes into view.

When they arrive, Logan scoops Adelaide into his arms, carrying her over the threshold. She laughs softly, resting her head against his shoulder. Inside, the house feels like a sanctuary, still simple and unfinished but already filled with warmth and love. Logan sets her down gently and tilts her chin up to look at him. “Welcome home, Mrs. Howlett.” He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

Adelaide smiles, her eyes glistening. “It’s perfect, Logan. You’re perfect.”

Logan doesn't waste another moment. He kisses her deeply, his hands moving to undo the delicate buttons of her wedding dress, his intentions for the night ahead clear in every touch and whispered promise. Their new life together begins in the quiet intimacy of the home he built for them, every moment steeped in love and devotion.

The days after the wedding are a blur of joy and intimacy as Logan and Adelaide settle into their new home. The little house by the river begins to take shape, its barebones interior slowly filling with furniture, personal touches, and the sound of their laughter. Logan spends his mornings chopping wood or making small repairs, but every time he catches sight of Adelaide - her dress fluttering as she works on arranging flowers or cleaning - he can’t help but set his tools aside. His hands find their way to her waist as he pulls her close, pressing kisses to her neck, whispering, “You’re too pretty to be workin’, darlin’. Let me spoil you instead.”

Adelaide tries to protest, laughing at his persistence, but Logan’s touch and his flirty, teasing words always leave her breathless. The ache in her body from their nights together hasn’t faded, but she doesn’t mind. She welcomes his attention, craving the closeness just as much as he does.

Each night, as they fall into bed, Logan’s hands roam her body like he’s memorizing every inch of her. “I don’t want to miss a second of this, Adelaide,” He murmurs against her skin, his voice thick with affection and desire. “Every moment I’ve got with you, I’m gonna make it count.” Adelaide’s heart swells at his words, though she notices a subtle edge to his tone sometimes - a tension he tries to hide. She doesn’t press him about it, trusting him completely, but the way he holds her afterward, so protectively, makes her wonder.

Logan hasn’t forgotten Caleb’s warning about Eli. It lingers in the back of his mind, a quiet shadow over their happiness. He’s kept his guard up, watching the horizon every time he steps outside and keeping his gun loaded by the door. But he refuses to let the threat ruin these first precious days with Adelaide.

At night, after they’ve settled into bed, Logan holds her close, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare skin. He listens to the way she sighs in contentment, her trust in him absolute. And as much as he aches to shield her from the world, there’s a part of him that knows this peace might not last forever. He doesn’t want to scare her, doesn’t want her to feel anything but joy.

When he’s with her, her smile and the way she says his name soothe the storm in his head. Logan knows he’ll have to confront Eli eventually, but for now, all he wants is to see Adelaide happy - to make her feel as cherished and loved as she makes him. But until the moment comes when he has to face his past - or anyone else who threatens their happiness - Logan is determined to give Adelaide everything he has. He whispers his love to her in the dark, promising her the life they’ve dreamed of, and in her arms, he allows himself to believe it’s possible.

Late one evening, as they sit by the fire, Logan pulls Adelaide into his lap, cradling her against him. He brushes a strand of hair from her face and presses a kiss to her temple. “You’re my everything, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ gonna take this away from us. I promise.”

Adelaide smiles softly, resting her head on his shoulder. She doesn’t know the weight behind his words, but she feels the depth of his love in every look, every touch, and every whispered promise.

As the weeks had gone by, Logan starts to notice subtle changes in Adelaide - her cheeks seem rosier, her appetite has grown, and there’s a softness to her that wasn’t there before. It doesn’t take long for him to piece it together, especially with the way her hand occasionally rests on her stomach, absentmindedly protective.

The glow of the early morning sun cast a warm light over their bedroom, illuminating the sheen of sweat on their skin as Logan lay beside Adelaide, his arm draped possessively over her waist. His fingers lazily traced patterns on her stomach, his gaze fixed there as if he could see the changes beneath her skin. Adelaide’s breathing was still uneven from their earlier passion, and her lips parted slightly when Logan finally broke the silence.

“You feel different,” He said, his voice low and gruff, yet softer than she’d ever heard. His hand stilled, resting flat on her belly. “Your body…it’s changin’, darlin’. Tell me - do you think it’s possible?”

Adelaide’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away bashfully before nodding. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it,” She admitted softly. “I believe it’s very possible, Logan.”

For a moment, he was silent, letting her words settle over him like the warmth of the morning sun. The possibility of Adelaide carrying his child struck him to his core. His fingers brushed over her stomach, lingering there, his touch both tender and possessive. “You’re serious,” He said, his voice tinged with awe. “You might really be…”

She nodded again, her smile soft but radiant. “I feel it, Logan. I just…know.”

The realization ignited something primal in him, a fire that burned hotter than anything he’d felt before. His hand tightened slightly over her abdomen, his gaze darkening as he imagined her swelling with his child, a part of him growing inside her.

“You’re mine, Adelaide,” He growled, his voice rough and thick with emotion. “Every part of you. And now…now you’re carryin’ a piece of me. Do you know what that does to me, darlin’? How much I wanna take care of you, protect you?” Adelaide shivered at the intensity of his words, her breath hitching as he pulled her closer. His lips found hers, his kiss demanding and fervent, leaving her breathless. “You’ll be the mother of my child,” Logan whispered against her lips, his hands exploring her body with renewed reverence. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need - everything you want. No one’s ever gonna hurt you or our baby. I’ll see to it.”

Adelaide whimpered softly under his touch, her body reacting to the possessive way he held her, the way he kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough. “Logan,” She murmured, her voice trembling, “You make me feel so safe. I want this. I want you. Always.”

Logan’s entire body tensed, his eyes darkening with something feral, something utterly consuming. A low growl escaped his throat as he shifted over her, bracing himself on his forearms to look down at her fully. Hearing her words only spurred him further, his movements fueled by the knowledge that she was his - his wife, his partner, and now, possibly the mother of his child. He leaned down to kiss her, slow and deep, his lips claiming hers. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, and his voice dropped further. “You’re gonna give me a family, Adelaide. You have no idea what that means to me.”

Adelaide’s hand moved to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing over his stubbled jaw. “Logan…I’ve always wanted to have this with you. A home. A family. You’ve given me so much already.”

Lovingly, Logan kissed her again, his touch rougher this time as his hands roamed over her body, rediscovering every inch. “No, darlin’. You’re givin’ me everything. And I’ll make damn sure you’re mine in every way.” His thrusts became deliberate, almost reverent, as he pushed himself into her once again, his gaze never leaving hers as her brows furrowed together from the intense stretch. “I’ll keep you safe,” He murmured, his voice dark with conviction. “No one will ever come near you or our child. And I’ll make sure of it every single day.” Adelaide trembled beneath him, his words sending a shiver through her. She could feel the weight of his devotion, his possessiveness, and it only deepened her love for him. Logan made love to her with purpose, his hands and lips worshiping her as though she were something sacred. “You’re mine, Adelaide. You’ll always be mine, and mine alone.”

Adelaide could do nothing but cling to him, her heart swelling with love and an unspoken thrill at the feral passion in his words. Logan Howlett wasn’t just her husband - he was her protector, her partner, and the father of the family they were about to create together.

By the time the morning light fully broke through the windows, they lay entwined, their breaths mingling as Logan rested his hand possessively over her stomach. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive, Adelaide,” He murmured, his voice softened by the weight of his emotions. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life showin’ you what you mean to me.”

Adelaide smiled, her heart swelling with love as she pressed a kiss to his chest. “You already do, Logan. Every single day.”

As Logan holds her close, he swears to himself that nothing will ever harm her or their growing family. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect them.

The house is quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the soft turn of the pages. Adelaide rests in the glow of the evening light, her hand absently brushing over the slight curve of her belly as she sits in the rocking chair Logan built for her while reading her Bible. When Logan walks in from his day’s work, dirt still on his boots and shirt undone at the collar, his gaze falls on her, and it’s as though the air shifts.

His eyes linger on the gentle swell of her belly, and a dark, possessive smile spreads across his face. “Darlin’,” He drawls, his voice low and gravelly as he sets his hat on the table. He crosses the room in a few strides, kneeling in front of her. His calloused hands come to rest on her thighs, sliding upward until they frame her small belly.

Adelaide looks down at him, her cheeks warm. “Logan, you’re filthy.” She teases softly, but the way she bites her lip betrays her amusement.

“You think that’s gonna stop me?” His hands tighten slightly, reverently, as his thumbs brush over her stomach. “Look at you. Carryin’ our baby. Do you know what that does to me?”

Her breath catches as he presses a kiss just below her belly button, the scruff of his beard sending shivers down her spine. She tries to maintain composure, but the way his touch lingers and his lips trail upward makes it impossible. “Logan…” She whispers, her fingers threading into his hair as he rises to his feet, towering over her.

“Evenin’s too short to waste time restin’, Mrs. Howlett.” He murmurs, his voice thick with adoration. He pulls her to her feet, one hand splayed possessively over her belly, the other tilting her chin up for a kiss that steals her breath. Adelaide sighs against him, her body already responding to the way he holds her as though she’s the most precious thing in the world. She tries to speak, but Logan doesn’t give her the chance, his lips trailing down her neck, his words setting her ablaze. “You’re mine, Adelaide. You and this baby - mine,” He growls, his voice rough but tender. “I’ll never stop remindin’ you of that.”

Her hands grip his arms, the strength beneath her fingers grounding her even as her knees weaken. “Logan,” She sighs, her voice breathy as her heart races.

He chuckles darkly, lifting her easily into his arms and carrying her to their room. “You keep sayin’ my name like that, darlin’, and I’ll never let you rest.”

Adelaide only clings to him, already knowing she won’t get a moment’s peace tonight - and not minding in the slightest.

The room is quiet except for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth and the occasional creak of the bed as Logan shifts slightly to hold Adelaide closer after their passionate display of affection. His large hand rests possessively over the slight swell of her belly, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over her skin. He’s utterly mesmerized, the thought of their child growing inside her filling him with a pride and tenderness he never thought he’d feel.

Adelaide tilts her head up from where it rests against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across his skin. “Logan,” She murmurs, her voice soft and filled with curiosity. “Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?”

Logan’s lips curve into a faint smirk as he looks down at her. “I don’t care, darlin’,” He says, his voice a low rumble. “Long as they’re healthy. Long as they’ve got a bit of your sweetness and enough of my grit to get by in this world.”

Adelaide smiles, but she presses him further. “But if you had to choose?”

Logan chuckles, his hand moving to gently rub her belly. “Well,” He drawls, thinking it over, “A son would be good. Someone I could teach to work the land, to stand his ground, and to keep his mama safe.” He pauses, his smirk softening into something deeper. “But a little girl? Lord, Adelaide, she’d have me wrapped around her finger the second I saw her. She’d have my heart, just like her mama.”

Adelaide’s cheeks flush at his words, and she nestles closer to him, her hand covering his on her belly. “Either way,” She says, her voice full of warmth, “They’re going to be so loved.”

Logan dips his head to kiss her hair, his other arm tightening around her. “Damn right, they will be. They’re ours, Adelaide. Our family. I’ll make sure they’ve got everything they could ever need.”

Adelaide sighs contentedly, her heart full as she listens to the steady beat of his. “You’re going to be a wonderful father, Logan,” She whispers, her voice laced with conviction. “They’re going to be so blessed to have you.”

Logan doesn’t answer right away. He just pulls her closer, burying his face in her hair. When he finally speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. “You’ve given me somethin’ I never thought I’d have, darlin’. A future. A family. I’ll never stop bein’ grateful for you.”

They lay there in the quiet, the weight of their love and the promise of the life they’re building settling over them like a warm, protective blanket.

The warm afternoon sun bathes the bustling town square as Logan and Adelaide linger after church, the congratulations from family and townsfolk filling the air like a steady hum of goodwill. Adelaide is glowing, her hand resting protectively on the gentle swell of her belly as older women pull her aside, offering advice and stories about motherhood. Logan leans against a nearby post, his sharp eyes following her every move. Pride and a deep, quiet love are written plainly on his face.

The cattlemen cluster around Logan, slapping his back and teasing him mercilessly. “Never thought we’d see the day, Howlett!” Jeb grins. “Settle down with a pretty gal and all.”

Logan smirks, his hat tipped low. “Reckon y’all were just waitin’ on me to show you how it’s done.” Adelaide glances at him and smiles, and he feels the familiar ache of devotion. She’s his whole world now - her and the child they’re bringing into it.

And then a voice cuts through the pleasant hum like a whipcrack.

“Logan!”

The sharp call freezes the air. Every sound in the square seems to dim as Logan turns slowly to face the voice. Eli stands at the edge of the crowd, his face is twisted in rage, his mutilated hand heavily wrapped in a crude bandage. In his good hand, a gun gleams, catching the midday sun, his eyes wild with hatred.

“Eli,” Logan says, his voice calm but edged with steel, “This ain’t the time or place. Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”

The crowd begins to scatter, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through as people back away. Logan glances toward Adelaide, who is now surrounded by the older women and her sisters, her eyes widening as she spots Eli. “You took everything from me, Logan. Think you can just play house and forget what you’ve done?”

Logan steps forward, his posture steady, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of the knife tucked behind his belt. “You don’t wanna do this. Walk away, Eli. I’m warnin’ you.” But Eli doesn’t back down. His hand moves, faster than Logan expects.

The world seems to slow as Eli aims the barrel 1 not at Logan, but at Adelaide.

“No!” Logan moves without hesitation, his body a blur as he steps into the line of fire. The crack of the gunshot echoes across the churchyard, followed by a gasp from the crowd. Logan stumbles, clutching his chest as crimson blooms across his shirt. He drops to his knees, his breath hitching.

Jeb reacts in an instant, drawing his revolver and firing a single, precise shot. Eli crumples to the ground, lifeless.

But Logan isn’t focused on Eli. He’s focused on Adelaide.

“Logan!” Adelaide’s scream cuts through the chaos. She’s on her knees beside him, her hands pressed to his chest, trembling as she tries to stem the bleeding. Her eyes are wide, tearful, her voice cracking as she begs him to stay with her. “Logan,” She whispers, “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”

Logan reaches up, his hand brushing against her cheek. “It’s alright, darlin’,” He murmurs, his voice weak but steady. “I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I? Just…had to make good on that.”

“Don’t you dare leave us.” Adelaide cries, her voice breaking.

The world around him blurs, the voices fading into a distant hum. He can hear the preacher’s voice somewhere nearby, offering words of comfort “Reverend,” Logan rasps, his gaze unfocused. “A man like me…can he still…see heaven?”

The preacher kneels beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Redemption is for all, Logan. God sees your heart. You’ll see heaven.” Logan closes his eyes, the pain fading as a vision takes hold.

He sees a little girl with Adelaide’s eyes and his unruly hair, running barefoot through a field of wildflowers. He sees Adelaide, her laughter like music, calling out to their daughter. He sees their house by the river, a life filled with peace and love.

Logan smiles faintly. “Adelaide…” He whispers.

And then, without fear and with the knowledge that he has served his purpose, he lets darkness take him.

💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

I know, I know😭 I am so sorry, kind readers. I simply realized I have no stories with an unhappy ending and I wanted to try it one time🫠

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#MAAM?!#THIS BETTER NOT BE THE END! 😭😭😭#cowboy!logan #logan howlett #logan howlett x original character #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut

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trickstersteve · 7 months ago

Text

This series and this magnificent writer has me ✨OBSESSED✨ 🥲

An Arrangement II |l. howlett|

A/N: boxer!logan x mafia daughter!reader, original character, 21+ f!character, slow burn, arranged marriage, angst, fluffy, mentions of abuse

The wedding ceremony, though a grand display, is marked by an eerie sense of disconnect. Logan stands at the altar, his gaze focused on Penelope, but his thoughts are far from the vows being exchanged. The kiss they share is simple - no passion, no connection beyond what’s expected, but as their lips meet, Logan feels an unexpected stirring deep within him. It’s not just the act of kissing her; it’s the emotions that rise unbidden. His instinct is to pull her closer, to deepen the kiss, to chase whatever spark flickered between them.

But Penelope pulls away first. Her gaze avoids his, her expression guarded. Logan watches as she takes a small step back, her fingers trembling slightly at her side. There’s a hesitation in her eyes, a wariness that speaks volumes. She feels it too, Logan realizes. The same pull, the same desire for something that’s just beyond their grasp, but she’s been hurt before - too many times. He doesn’t blame her for pulling away. Trust is a fragile thing, and he knows it’s not something he can earn overnight.

The reception is a blur. The extravagant food and champagne, the laughter and the toasts - it all feels hollow. Vince is in his element, making sure everything is perfect, overseeing every last detail with the ruthless precision of someone who’s used to controlling every situation. Logan moves through it mechanically, offering polite nods and smiles, all the while aware of Penelope’s discomfort. Her eyes are distant, her smiles strained.

By the time they leave, Logan senses the weight of the night settling in, the exhaustion settling over both of them. They’re driven to a quiet, nondescript townhome, not far from the city, a place Vince has secured for them to stay. It’s private, isolated, and heavily guarded - just like everything else Vince controls. He can keep an eye on them here, make sure nothing slips out of his grasp.

As Vince’s car pulls away, Logan stands for a moment, looking at the house. It’s too quiet, too unfamiliar. And yet, it’s now home - at least for the time being.

Inside, Logan moves to the kitchen, pulling out some ingredients. Cooking has always been his escape, his quiet way of grounding himself. He knows Penelope didn’t eat much at the reception, neither of them had the stomach for it. They’ve both been living in a world where survival, not comfort, is the priority.

The smell of food fills the small kitchen, and Logan moves around the space with ease. He’s not trying to distract her, not really. He just wants to do something - something normal, something that might make this feel a little less like a prison.

As Logan prepares a simple meal, the rhythm of cooking grounds him. It’s something he’s always found solace in - something that allows him to focus, to block out the noise. The sizzling sound of food in the pan, the clink of utensils, and the smell of dinner fill the quiet apartment.

Penelope was quiet as she sat at the kitchen table, her eyes distant, as if her mind was a million miles away. Logan didn’t try to fill the silence immediately. It wasn’t about conversation - it was about presence, being there without forcing anything. Slowly, as the aroma of the meal filled the space, she seemed to relax a little, but the sadness that clung to her was palpable. He placed a plate in front of her, a simple pasta - nothing fancy, but something he was proud of. “It’s not much,” He said, his voice softer than usual. “But I thought you might want something real.” Penelope glanced up at him, her eyes flickering with gratitude, but she didn’t speak. She picked up her fork, slowly, and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

After a moment, she looked up again, meeting his gaze, and gave him a small, strained smile. It was the first genuine expression he’d seen from her since the wedding, but it was fleeting, quickly fading as she set her utensils down. “Thank you.” She whispered. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Logan nodded, his own smile faint but warm. “You don’t have to thank me.” But she didn’t respond, and after a long, silent moment, she stood up from the table and excused herself, retreating to her room without another word. Logan sat at the table for a moment, the emptiness of the space surrounding him.

The silence was heavy, oppressive. He wanted to say more to her, to reach out, but he knew he couldn’t force her. Not yet. Not when she wasn’t ready. He took a deep breath, staring at the half-eaten plate of food before him, the silence pressing in. Tomorrow, things would be the same. Vince’s men outside. The walls closing in. But he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t.

He only hoped that, with time, Penelope would learn to trust him - not because of the promises he made, but because of the quiet actions he took to prove he wasn’t just another person trying to control her. He would protect her, even if it meant slowly, patiently, breaking down the walls she’d built around herself.

The first few days as a married couple are uneventful, filled with a quiet routine that neither Logan nor Penelope could have imagined before. They exist in the same space but remain separate in many ways, each retreating into their own corners. Logan trains during the day, working out at the gym to keep his edge for the fights, and Penelope stays behind at the townhome. She doesn’t venture far, knowing Vince’s men are always watching.

At first, Logan feels a pang of guilt each time he leaves her behind, but he knows there’s little else for her to do. Vince has given them this house, a place to stay - but it feels like a gilded cage. At least, when he returns, he can offer her small comforts - little pieces of normalcy that he hopes will make her feel less trapped, even if only for a moment. Logan had noticed something about Penelope in the days leading up to the wedding, something that seemed like a lifeline to her in a sea of chaos: the book she always carried in her purse. A small, well-worn novel by an author he recognized. It was clear she found solace in it. So, on his way back from the gym one evening, he stops by a bookstore and buys her a different book by the same author.

When he gets home, he finds her sitting in the living room, curled up in one of the armchairs, the same book in hand. He hesitates for a moment, watching her. Her face is softer, more open, lost in the words of the page. She’s so much more at peace when she’s reading, as if it’s the one place she can escape from everything. He walks over quietly, sets the new book on the coffee table without a word, just a simple gesture, and watches her closely. Penelope looks up, her eyes meeting his with a hint of surprise, then flicking down to the book. She hesitates for a moment, as if unsure of what to make of it, but when she picks it up and inspects the cover, a small smile tugs at her lips. She looks up at him then, her expression softer than he’s seen in days. “What’s this?”

“I noticed you’ve been carrying that book around,” He says, gesturing to the one she’s holding. “I thought you might like something else by the same author.”

Penelope’s eyes flicker to the new book, then back to Logan, and for a moment, she seems at a loss for words. She hesitates before picking it up. “Thank you.” She says, her voice soft but sincere.

Logan nods, his chest tightening at the simplicity of the moment. It’s the first time in days that there’s been something real between them. She’s not just surviving this arrangement anymore - she’s starting to let him in, even if just a little. “I’ll leave you to it.” He says, backing away with a slight smile. Penelope watches him go, then glances down at the book in her hands. She runs her fingers over the cover, almost as if she’s holding a delicate treasure.

Later that evening, Logan starts to prepare dinner, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables a comfort in the silence. Penelope doesn’t disappear into another room; instead, she stays nearby, her attention caught by the book. She seems absorbed, lost in the world of the author’s words. And Logan likes that - he likes seeing her face shift, her emotions flickering across her features as she reads. It’s a window into her that he hasn’t had access to before. It’s the only time he sees her expression change so naturally, so freely.

While the food simmers, Logan watches her. She’s sitting at the small table, curled into the chair with one knee pulled to her chest, her eyes scanning the pages. For a moment, she looks completely at peace - no walls, no tension. Just her and the story, lost in a world of her own. He finishes the meal and sets the plates down in front of them, breaking the quiet. “How’s the book?” He asks, his voice soft, trying not to disrupt the calm.

Penelope looks up, blinking as if she’s coming back to herself. “It’s good. I like it,” She says, her smile small but genuine. “You were right. It’s different from the one I’ve been reading, but it’s good.” Logan nods, satisfied. It’s not much, but he’s starting to feel like he’s getting through to her in small ways. He’s starting to understand her, to find little pieces of her that are hers alone, not dictated by her father or the life he has forced on her.

As they eat, the conversation is minimal, but comfortable. There’s no rush, no need for forced pleasantries. Just the quiet of two people sharing space, the subtle connection between them growing, piece by piece. Logan watches Penelope as she eats, catching her reading for a moment, then looking up at him with a soft, quiet gaze.

It’s the first real moment of calm they’ve had since the wedding, and in the silence that stretches between them, Logan allows himself to hope - hope that these small moments, these quiet connections, can be the beginning of something real. Something more than just a contract, more than just the game Vince has set them in.

For now, it’s enough to simply share a meal, to see Penelope smile - even if it’s only for a moment.

The night of Logan’s first fight since the wedding arrives, and the arena is as packed as ever. The bright lights, the heavy scent of sweat and anticipation in the air - it all feels suffocating to Penelope as she sits in the front row, positioned where a wife is expected to be, beside Vince and his associates. She can feel the eyes of the crowd on her, the weight of the situation pressing down, but it’s Logan she’s watching. The tension in her chest grows as the bell rings, signaling the start of the fight.

Vince is beside her, cheering loudly, clapping his hands with enthusiasm, and laughing with his people at the spectacle of it all. Penelope feels out of place, her stomach tight, her hands clenched together. She’s anxious, hoping the fight ends quickly, hoping Logan doesn’t have to push himself further than necessary. She hates these nights - the way they turn him into something he’s not, a pawn in Vince’s twisted game. Logan, though, seems calm in the ring, moving with a practiced ease. He’s too good, too fast, making it look effortless as he dodges and strikes, his opponent no real challenge. It’s another easy win for him, but it doesn’t feel like victory. It feels empty, the cheers around her muffled as Penelope’s eyes are fixed on Logan, watching him closely.

When the fight finally ends, Logan’s hand raises in triumph, but there’s no joy in his expression, just the resignation of another forced performance. Penelope catches that look in his eyes as he makes his way over to them, and she knows the fight wasn’t just another match for him - it was a reminder of how trapped he is, of how much he hates this life.

After he receives his payout, his face is unreadable, but she can see the conflict in his posture, the way his shoulders are tight as he accepts the money from Vince, almost mechanically. Logan doesn’t look at her, but when he gently takes her hand, guiding her through the crowd to the car waiting outside, she can tell he’s trying to block out whatever turmoil is running through him.

The drive home is quiet. The city lights blur past the window as Penelope sits beside him, her hand still in his. She wants to ask him questions, wants to know what’s going on inside his head, but she can’t bring herself to do it. There’s a weight between them, something unspoken.

Once home, Logan doesn’t say much. He heads straight to the kitchen to cook, the rhythmic sounds of chopping and stirring filling the silence. Penelope watches him for a moment, then sits at the kitchen table, her fingers tracing the edge of the chair.

Finally, after a long pause, she speaks, her voice soft. “Do you still like boxing?”

The question catches him off guard. He pauses for a moment, setting down the knife. It’s the first time she’s asked him anything like this - about his life, about what he wants. He knows what she’s really asking. She wants to know if he still enjoys the thing he does, the thing that’s kept them both trapped in this cycle.

“I do,” He says slowly, his voice low. “I like the fight, the challenge. I always have. But…I don’t like faking it.” He glances at her over his shoulder, meeting her eyes. “I don’t like pretending these guys are a real threat when they’re not. I don’t like being forced into a game that’s rigged from the start. It doesn’t feel like me anymore.”

Penelope listens closely, her eyes never leaving him. She’s beginning to understand the weight he carries, the way the sport that once brought him joy now feels like a cage. There’s a sadness in his words, a frustration that she can’t quite fix. Logan turns back to the stove, continuing to plate the meal, his movements a little slower than before, like he’s letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He doesn’t ask her to join him, doesn’t push for conversation, but after a moment, Penelope stands up from the table. Without saying anything, she walks over and sits down across from him.

This is the first time since they’ve been together that she’s sat with him for dinner, the first time she’s chosen to be present in this moment, not just as his wife in name, but as someone who genuinely wants to be there. It’s a small thing, but it means something. Logan looks at her, a soft, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. It’s the first time in a long while that he doesn’t feel like he’s alone in this. As they eat in silence, the quiet between them feels comfortable, even intimate. There’s no need for forced pleasantries, no masks to hide behind. Just two people, sharing a meal, quietly acknowledging the struggle in each other.

For the first time since they’ve been married, the weight of the world feels a little lighter. Maybe they can find a way out of this mess, together.

The morning air is crisp as Logan prepares to leave for his training session. He’s pulling on his gear, his muscles shifting under his shirt, when he pauses for a moment, glancing over at Penelope. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a book, her brow furrowed in concentration. He knows that her mind is often elsewhere, caught between the life she’s been thrust into and the quiet moments she seeks to carve out for herself.

“Hey,” Logan says, his voice low and warm. “You wanna come with me today? To the gym?”

Penelope looks up, caught off guard for a second. The invitation is unexpected, but she doesn’t hesitate long. A small smile forms on her lips as she thinks about it, weighing the offer. It’s been a while since she’s left the house, and even longer since she’s seen Logan in his element. The thought of seeing him in a place that’s entirely his own, where he’s in control, intrigues her.

“Yeah,” She says after a moment. “I’d like that.”

The walk to the gym is quiet but not awkward. They’ve grown comfortable in these silences, the presence of the other bringing a kind of solace neither of them expected. When they arrive, the gym is alive with the sound of punching bags, grunts of effort, and the rhythmic clinking of weights. It’s a far cry from the polished spectacle of the underground fights. This place feels raw, authentic - real.

Logan leads her inside, the air thick with sweat and determination. “This is Gus,” He says, gesturing to an older man with a weathered face and an easy smile. “He’s been kicking my ass since I was a teenager.”

Gus chuckles, shaking Penelope’s hand warmly. “More like trying to keep this guy out of trouble,” He says with a wink. “Logan used to think he didn’t need anyone telling him what to do. Took a lot of effort to get him to listen.”

As Logan steps away to warm up, Gus leans in slightly, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You should’ve seen him back in the day - hot-headed, stubborn as hell. Couldn’t stop picking fights, trying to prove himself all the time.” He shakes his head, grinning. “I had to teach him some discipline. And patience. That was the real challenge.”

Penelope laughs, the sound soft but genuine, and for a moment, the tension that usually hangs around her seems to melt away. Logan glances over from where he’s stretching, catching the sight of her smiling. It’s a small thing, but it lights something inside him. He doesn’t say anything, just watches her for a second longer before getting back to his routine.

As the training session begins in earnest, Penelope watches Logan closely, her attention focused on his movements. She feels a little shy as he takes off his shirt to spar, the sight of him shirtless making her stomach flutter in an unfamiliar way. It’s not that she hasn’t seen him before, but seeing him here - so focused, so in control - feels different. There’s an intensity to the way he moves, and watching it stirs something in her that she’s not sure how to handle. She tries to focus on his technique, on the way his body moves with purpose, but every now and then her eyes drift back to his face, to the set of his jaw, the concentration in his eyes. It’s strange, how something so simple, something so familiar, can make her feel like she’s learning him all over again.

As the session comes to an end, Logan finishes with a quick, hard punch, and then heads over to wipe his face with a towel. Penelope feels a rush of relief and a little embarrassment, as though she’s been caught staring. But Logan doesn’t seem to notice.

“You okay?” He asks, catching his breath. “Wasn’t too boring?”

Penelope shakes her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “No, it was great. You…you’re really good at this.”

Logan’s smile is genuine, but there’s a flicker of something more - appreciation, maybe. The way she watches him, not with fear or judgment, but with curiosity, makes him feel like she’s seeing him for who he is in a way no one else ever has. He likes the way she looks at him now, as if she’s peeling away the layers of his life and seeing the parts of him that aren’t defined by Vince or the fights.

As they leave the gym together, Penelope feels a quiet contentment settle over her. There’s something about today that feels different. It’s like she’s seen a new side of Logan, one that’s been there all along, but only now does she fully understand. There’s a bond between them that’s slowly starting to take root, and she feels a little closer to him than before.

On their walk home back from the gym, Logan notices a small cafe tucked along a quiet street, its sign promising fresh coffee and pastries. He glances over at Penelope. “Hungry?” She nods, and they make a detour.

Inside, the cafe is warm and inviting, the hum of quiet conversation and the clinking of dishes filling the air. Penelope sips her coffee, her eyes flicking to Logan as he scans the menu, clearly in a good mood from the workout. The quiet between them is comfortable, but there’s a certain intimacy in the air now, one that wasn’t there before. She feels like she’s learned something new about him today. The thought lingers in her mind as she watches him, and after a few moments, she speaks up.

“How did you get into boxing?” She asks softly. Her voice is curious, but there’s something else in it - an openness that’s new between them.

Logan looks up from his menu, surprised by the question. For a moment, he seems to consider how much to share, but then he sighs, the weight of his words coming easily. “Well, I grew up orphaned,” He begins, his voice steady but with a shadow of something deeper. “Wasn’t much of a childhood, really. Just bouncing from one foster home to the next. Never felt like I belonged anywhere.” He shifts in his seat, his hands folded in front of him. “I had a lot of anger in me. I didn’t know how to deal with it. No one really taught me how to manage it, you know?” Penelope listens intently, her eyes never leaving his face. Logan shifts in his seat, not used to talking about his past, but there’s something about the way she looks at him that makes it easier. “Then I found the gym. At first, it was just a way to let out all that anger, to punch something instead of breaking stuff. But over time, it became more. Boxing gave me a way to channel that anger,” He continues. “A reason to keep my head straight. It was the only thing that made me feel…in control.”

Penelope looks at him with a quiet comprehension, her heart aching for the little boy he must have been, for the boy who didn’t have anyone to show him love or guidance. She takes in his words, feeling like she suddenly understands so much more about him. He’s not just the strong, steady man she’s come to know; he’s someone who’s fought his way through life, shaped by loss and struggle. It makes sense now - the controlled intensity she’s seen in him, the guarded way he carries himself. He’s not just a fighter - he’s someone who’s battled more than just opponents in a ring.

After a moment, Penelope offers a piece of herself in return. “I know what it’s like to grow up with anger.” She begins. “My mom was loving,” Her voice soft but steady. “She always tried to make me feel safe. But she couldn’t take my father’s rage - his abuse. She left when I was young. I know she had her reasons, but…” She hesitates, her eyes lowering to her coffee cup. “I never really forgave her for it. Not just for leaving me, but for leaving me with him.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, the only sound is the murmur of the café around them. He can see the pain in her expression, the vulnerability she is sharing, the years of hurt she’s carried with her. Slowly, he reaches across the table, his hand resting lightly over hers. “You didn’t deserve that,” He says quietly, his voice low and serious. “You don’t deserve any of this. I can’t change what happened, but I promise you this - I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes lock with hers, and for a moment, it’s just the two of them, the noise of the cafe fading into the background. “I’ll never abandon you, Penelope. I’ll never hurt you.”

Penelope’s eyes glisten, but she doesn’t cry. Instead, she gives him a small, trembling smile. And for the first time, she believes it - not just the words, but the man saying them. There’s a strength in Logan that’s different from the kind she’s grown up around. It’s not about control or dominance. It’s about protection, about loyalty, about care.

The connection between them lingers, unspoken but deeply felt. Logan watches as Penelope takes a small bite of her toast, her posture a little less guarded now. And as they finish their breakfast, he realizes that this moment - this simple, quiet moment - might be the first real step toward something neither of them expected to find in each other.

As they step through the door of their townhome, the change in the air is palpable. The hum of their morning together, the quiet moments shared in the café, feels like it’s carrying over, lingering in the space between them. Logan closes the door behind them, and they stand there for a moment, not sure what to say, but both feeling the shift that’s taken place.

The energy between them is different now - lighter, but more charged. It’s as if something unspoken has passed between them, a small, quiet understanding, and the weight of it is both thrilling and a little intimidating. Logan glances at Penelope, his heart beating a little faster than usual. He wants to say something, anything, but all he can do is take a slow step toward her, drawn to the way she’s looking at him - soft, open.

Penelope looks back at him, her eyes reflecting something she hasn’t let herself feel in a long time: trust. She doesn’t step away. Instead, she lets him come closer, her breath catching as Logan gently wraps his arms around her. For a long moment, they simply stand there, holding each other, the steady rhythm of their hearts filling the silence.

Logan can feel the way she clings to him, like she’s seeking comfort, seeking reassurance. And maybe, just maybe, he wants to give that to her. He rests his chin on top of her head, feeling the warmth of her against him, the softness of her hair, and for the first time in a while, he feels something stir in him - a desire to be close, to protect her, to take care of her in a way he hasn’t known how to before. He whispers softly into her ear, his voice low, teasing, but with an edge of tenderness. “You know, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Penelope.”

Her breath hitches slightly, and she pulls back just enough to look up at him, her cheeks flushed with warmth. She smiles, a shy, almost uncertain smile, but it makes Logan’s chest tighten in a way he isn’t prepared for. “Stop it.” She says softly, but there’s no real force behind it. She’s flustered, but she can’t help the way his words make her feel.

Logan chuckles quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin just a little longer than necessary. “I’m serious, though. I can’t stop thinking about how you looked at the gym today,” He adds, his voice playful now, a flirtatious edge to it. “You were all quiet while watching me, but I could tell you were thinking something.”

Penelope feels the heat rise in her cheeks again, her smile widening, though she looks away, suddenly bashful. “You must’ve imagined it.” She murmurs, but her voice carries a hint of amusement.

Logan leans in a little closer, his breath warm against her skin. “Yeah, maybe, but I know I’m not imagining this,” He whispers, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “You’re making it hard for me to concentrate with how cute you’re being right now.”

Penelope’s heart skips a beat, her smile growing wider despite herself. She feels the butterflies in her stomach, a warmth spreading through her chest. For a moment, it’s like they’re just two people, not bound by any of the circumstances that brought them together, but simply…together.

Logan gently cups her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers. There’s something in his gaze - something more than just flirtation. It’s a mix of tenderness, longing, and something deeper that he can’t quite name. And for the first time in a long time, Penelope doesn’t pull away. Instead, she steps closer, her breath quickening slightly.

For a brief, perfect moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. They stand there, holding each other, letting the warmth of their connection speak louder than any words. The kiss comes slowly, tentatively, as though testing the waters of something new. It’s soft at first, just the brush of lips, but it deepens as they both surrender to the moment, as if giving in to what’s been building between them.

Penelope lets herself melt into the kiss, her arms wrapping around him as she clings to him once more, this time in a way that feels natural. Logan pulls her closer, his hands threading into her hair, and when they finally pull away, their foreheads rest against each other. Neither of them wants to let go, not just yet.

For the first time, it feels like they’re more than just a forced arrangement - they feel like two people, truly connected, with something real between them. And for a fleeting moment, they almost feel like a normal couple, free of the weight of everything that brought them here.

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

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trickstersteve · 9 months ago

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I’m rewatching psych right now and mannn I cannot get over how perfect of a crossover with leverage opportunity the “hunting down henry’s shooter and uncovering an international arms smuggling ring disguised as a food charity” arc was.

just. have shawn call in eliot. have shawn call in eliot and the team comes with when they realize how big this thing actually is pleaaaase i need the au fic of shawn Being A Spencer in the darker sense of the word

#A crossover I didn't know I needed until now #leverage #psych #shawn spencer #eliot spencer #AU

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trickstersteve · 10 months ago

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No matter what country you live in …

To anyone considering not voting because of the Palestinian genocide, I have this to ask:

How many Palestinian people do you think you're helping by laying back and inviting the GOP to crush you under foot? Self flagellation didn't cure The Plague, and it won't fix this situation either.

If you don't like the idea of voting for Harris, I doubt I'll be able to change your mind, but consider this: 468 congressional seats out of a total 535 are up for re-election THIS NOVEMBER. You want to make the government start actually representing the will of the people? Start there.

We're living in frightening times, and apathy is a very comfortable state of being, but you need to act. If you don't, who will?

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trickstersteve · 10 months ago

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Gawd, this is good 🥵

𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐱

⬩ pairing(s) logan "wolverine" howlett x mutant!female!reader

⬩ warning(s) language, sparring/fighting, a little bit of plot, a super teeny tiny bit of angst, smut, dirty talking, masturbation (mentioned), competency!kink (aka logan liking someone that can beat him in a fight), penetrative sex (p in v), bodily fluids (mentioned), rough(ish) sex, no pussy eating but logan is still a munch, no protection (wrap irl pls), yearning!logan, hold the moan vibes, female anatomy/pronouns are used. minors dni/+18!

⬩ author's note imposter syndrome set in but we're posting anyway because the love for logan is real! not sure how i did with his character but it's okay because this is fiction :) dedicating this to @joannasteez @rae-gar-targaryen @heavenbarnes @kyletogaz and anyone else who needs logan howlett as badly as i do. reader's powers are sort of explained but pretty vague so you can imagine whatever you want outside of what's mentioned in the fic. more logan coming soon and i hope you enjoy <3

⬩ word count 3.9k

Six months. Six months ago you’d started as the new counselor. Six months, and Logan can’t get you out of his head.

Extraordinary was the word the Headmaster had used. Logan thought it was just Charles being Charles when he’d introduced you as such, though he soon finds his boss was correct. Understating, even.

The realization comes on your sixth day of employment. Ororo, Logan’s usual training partner and woman who could double as Mother Nature, was a few hours east with Jean and Scott. This left Logan to skip for the day and settle for a good run instead. Well, that was his plan until he catches you on your way to the gym.

He doesn’t mean to stare but fuck. The leggings you’re sporting could bring even the strongest mutants to tears. In his haze, the man forgets that you can spot him and probably already have as he attempts to follow you. You’re hearing is as good as his, if not better, and your super acute senses are just that–super and acute. Hell, you’re ability to feel what others have to search hard for is one of the reasons Charles hired you in the first place.

Logan knows he’s caught when you’re already laughing quietly to yourself upon his entry to the gym. The room would be empty if not for the two of you and he couldn’t feel luckier.

“Just wanted to make sure you got to where you were going.” It’s a lie and a bad one, but your ass in those pants has his head too fogged to think of anything better. “Easy to get lost in this place. Lotta rooms.”

You hum at Logan’s words, already knowing that he knows you aren’t buying it. “I appreciate that. Had a couple hours free, so I thought I’d check this place out. Gotta keep up with the rest of you guys, somehow.”

Logan’s eyebrows accidentally raise, and you tilt your head at him.

“Why the face?”

Shit. Shaking his head, Logan comes to join you where you stand on the large sparring mat in the middle of the room. Soon enough, he gives in. No point in lying if he’s already fibbed once.

“...just didn’t think a school counselor would be into that kinda thing.”

“And what makes you say that?”

Logan huffs out something similar to a laugh, as your rebuttal came quicker than he was expecting. He can see the gears in your head working and the smile threatening to break out, but it can’t be for what he’s thinking, right?

“I just–”

Only the two words slip from his lips before you charge in his direction. He catches on fast enough to counter the leg you try and slip around his, but can’t catch himself when you shove him into the mat from behind.

Logan crashes to his hands and knees, stunned. He whips his head to you from his place on the ground, face reading what the fuck? The way you stand over him with a pleased look doesn’t give him a chance to be angry, however. In a matter of a few short seconds, the man’s shaking with an unexpected round of laughter.

“Well, fuck,” he exhales, finally standing with an impressed grin. “That’s one way to prove a guy wrong.”

Your shrug is interrupted by a pouncing Logan, who carries out the move you tried to execute to near perfection, causing your back to hit the mat with a short thud. When you blink yourself back to reality, you’re met with him dangling over you. Not that you really got any chance, but it’s his turn to gloat.

“Gotta sweep both legs, not just swipe at one.”

You roll your eyes, taking the outstretched hand he offers to help you up. Logan sniffs at the flame that shoots through his hand.

That’s how the next hour goes. One of you attacks, the other counters. Never with any true malice behind any of your intentions, but that’s not to say either of you don’t try to knock the wind out of each other once or twice. All of it is in good fun, concluding with the both of you panting atop the mat with matching grins.

“You’re good… and fast,” Logan sighs after catching his breath. “Where’d you learn how to fight like that?”

“...where we all did; surviving in a world that doesn’t like us very much.”

When you don’t tell him any more than that, he leaves it alone. You’ll tell him one day. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. He’s the last person to push someone back into memories they’ve obviously tried to forget.

This world is shitty enough. He’s searched enough to know there’s no sense in dipping behind locked doors.

“Same time tomorrow? Assuming Charles doesn’t need someone to save the world.”

Another laugh twitches Logan’s upper body as he peeks over at you. Your skin is damp after all your skillful offense and better defense. His eyes snake down your entire frame and linger for who knows how long. Lower lip sucking into his mouth, he has to flick his gaze back toward the ceiling before his dick can harden any further.

“Sounds like a plan,” Logan replies, hoping you can’t hear the wobble in his voice. You leave him a few minutes later with an aching member he hides all the way back to his room.

This becomes the routine. Once a week, the two of you meet in the gym, spar, and he runs back to his shower to pump one out over your competence. If the count he’s been keeping is right, you’ve got a slight edge on the matches–a fact he’d be surprised with if he didn’t already know the reason behind it.

You’re impossibly enthralling, even more so when you fight, and it really starts fucking with him the better he gets to know you. Like he said before, you’re fast. It keeps him on his toes, on and off the mat. What move will you counter with next? What story do you have for him today? What panties do you wear to keep those leggings so smooth?

Months pass and it gets harder to hide. Logan waits a little longer to push you off when you end up on top of him. His hands linger a little more when he’s pinning you to the mat with a victorious smirk. He stands a little closer when listens to you speak, your voice becoming a siren’s song that invades his mind into the hours past sundown.

Tonight is all the same, and as usual, a soda in the kitchen at midnight does nothing to help his attempts to sleep.

What that man would do for a cold beer.

He sits by himself at the counter, rubbing his eyes in half annoyance, half worked up. You had sparred with the man five days ago, and he’s still stuck on the move that made him tap out. Something with your thighs wrapped around his neck and squeezing until he smacks the mat. That evening, he rushed through dinner to finish grading exams before fucking one of his pillows for half the night.

Logan’s thrusted out of his daydream at the distant sound of footsteps, recognizing them instantly. He leaves his stool with an embarrassing swiftness but is able to collect himself as he travels through the mansion. The sound of your calming pitters is followed by Logan with ease, and the man finds his prize in record time.

“So it’s not just the kids that don’t get enough rest around here.”

God, it takes everything within Logan not to smile smugly at the way you pause and spin. Finally, you’re the one caught off guard for a change. It’s nice, the way you hide your squirm with a clearing of your throat and a tiny grin. You had to have heard him coming, so why the nerves?

“Hard thing to do when the mind’s always on.” The words come with a shrug that causes the straps of your loose tank to slip off one of your shoulders. Logan swallows at the sight of the skin, sucking in a quiet breath to keep an embarrassing noise from slipping from his lips. What would you think if he’d told you he’d dream about kissing that very spot? Inhaling against and sucking on it after at whatever time of day you’ll allow in whatever room you wish.

“And the mind’s a hard thing to turn off for people like us.” Logan eases to you, even steps echoing in the otherwise empty hallway. With a tilted head and barely-hooded eyes, the man’s growing somewhat drunk just off the smell of you. The thought of a good drink is somewhere else. It’s long gone as he breathes in your scent as deep as he can before continuing. “What’s keeping you up tonight?”

Logan waits patiently while you think. The subtle tick of your eyes to the right as you rack your brain is almost as stunning as when you glance back at him before dragging your gaze down to the crotch of his jeans.

“You don’t really sleep in those, do you?”

You haven’t moved your eyes. Why haven’t you moved your eyes?

Logan huffs out of astonishment more than anything, cocking one of his hips to the side. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before having to bite the same spot to keep his chuckle down.

“My, uh,” he grins a little. “My jeans are why you can’t sleep?

Logan swallows when you finally look back at his face. You stare something wrong into his soul, something he feels in the smallest divots of his otherworldly joints, in the very meaning of his existence. He doesn’t realize he’s drifted even closer until the heat of you raises the hairs on the back of his neck. The mutant stares at you, into you, a slight sway leaning his body to hang even closer to yours.

“It’s… what’s under them that has me wandering the halls.”

Logan’s insides jump and twitch and flail as he processes your words. His mouth grows to feel extremely dry, and it seems impossible to say anything back. Somewhere deep down, he eventually finds it.

“Are we finally gonna do this?” Logan’s question hits out hard in the dimness of the hallway. Almost as powerful as the beats his heart pounds, a thudding ardor pulsing right alongside the blood pumping all the way down to his cock. He doesn’t hesitate in the gliding of a tender palm along your sides, hands settling to grip against your waist. He dips his fingertips, pressing into what he desperately wishes was your skin instead of the soft fabric of your shirt. “You finally gonna let me show you what I think about every time you walk into the fuckin’ room? Every time you knock me into that mat?”

There’s a vibration coming off your skin now, one that Logan feels rattle against his bones as your lips part in a slow grin. It doesn’t take more than a nod and soft yes from you to force a low growl from Logan’s throat. He almost sounds it again when you pull away to gather his hand into yours.

Logan studies you the entire journey to your room. It’s the furthest down the hall of all the instructors’ quarters, giving him ample time to dance lingering, heated looks at the way you move; it’s with such grace and attention, though the man knows you give it none. It’s just who you are, the slick moves and cunning ways that have him entranced.

The air inside your room is thick with want. A quiet clunk sounds when Logan shuts the door, his back resting against the wood in a slight lean.

“Nice place,” Logan comments quietly. It looks as put together as he thought it would. Tidy but lived in, and touches of you all over. You accept the compliment with a few strides to where Logan stands, and he welcomes the arms you snake around his neck with an embrace of his own.

“Can I kiss you?”

His badly stoked yearning makes the seconds it takes for you to bob your head seem like an eternity. The time it takes to kiss you, however, is second to none. Your faces sink together, tongues too impatient to wait before they meld together in a deep kiss. A moan slips from you, Logan drinking it with a groan of his own.

Logan drags his lips from yours, allowing you to breathe but only for a moment as he trails kisses down your jawline. His world glows golden when he finally makes it to your shoulder. The spot he’s wanted to feel against his lips oh so badly. He nips at and moans lowly against it, raising a round of goosebumps he can feel erupt across you. He’s doing that. He’s the one causing you to shiver like this, and it’s going to drive him crazy.

Logan snogs you the entire way to your bed, pushing you onto the mattress with a gentle flop.

“Off,” he commands, ripping off his tank in the blink of an eye before rushing to unbuckle his belt. “All of it.”

The two of you move quickly, ripping off shirts and slipping off bottoms in a single move. Your desperation forbids any kind of teasing, the two of you completely naked when Logan clambers on top of you. His cock noticeably twitches when it brushes against the skin of your stomach, but Logan’s too busy being slack-jawed as he stares down at you.

He could sob at your tits, and his hand has to tweak one of your nipples on its way down to your soaking lips. Right now, Logan doesn’t focus on taking his time, and you don’t let him. The man dives right in, incapable of waiting when such a ravishing meal like this is laid out like this before him.

A finger glides up your slit and just outside your entrance, collecting your already gathering wetness.

“This all for me?” A gasp spills from you, right into Logan’s mouth. He breathes it down without hesitation, pressing his lips into yours as he slides the drenched pads of his fingers up and down your puffing clit. Your legs try to clench together as the sudden spark that zaps through you, but Logan easily parts them with a single swipe of his knee, keeping you pressed open for him with a little tsk.

All you can do is squeak out a small ahs, a pair of thick fingers rubbing you roughly, while Logan relishes the way your head throws back, mouth parting. Your hand finds its way to his chest, where you clutch his forearm, and squirm underneath him. Another smirk darkens Logan’s face when your writhes forge into determined grinds against his working digits, and he makes sure to burn the image of this into his very core.

“That’s it,” he breathes out. “Use me, baby. Don’t fuckin’ stop ‘til your pussy creams all over my hand.”

Logan could burst at how you do exactly what he said to; you use the fuck out of the hand he has clamped against you, whining and jerking, pussy leaking a devastating amount of your juices out to coat his fingers. He talks you through when your first orgasm ricochets through your body, jolting your limbs and wrenching ill-restrained wails from your lips. Instead of stopping, he hurries to kiss you when you release a particularly loud sound at the overwhelming sensation. Telling you how good you’re being for him. Coming for him so well. You cling to him your entire way down, kissing at his lips and chin lazily as he holds you.

He waits until you return with a heavy breath before removing his hand. You tense at the removal, your shivers quickly decaying when he returns the warmth in the form of his member nudging back against your slit.

The head of his cock presses into you at an infuriating speed, but Logan can’t go any faster. Your center is a mess of wet and clings around Logan with a tautness that makes him pause halfway inside of you. He needs a second, or he’ll cum. Flood you before he gets a chance to feel you come around him first.

A lengthy oh draws from Logan, ending with a punched-out fuck only when his entire cock is entirely submerged inside your hole. He gives you both a moment to adjust, twining an arm under you to press a hand to your back while the other palms itself on your cheek. He clutches you close, testing a few deep strokes that he finds are the right move when you choke out a perfect whine.

Logan’s pace grows gradually, always angling his hips according to whatever makes you clench around him the most. You’re lucky your bed is bolted to the floor when Logan starts bucking with a new snap to his hips, a slick layer of cream appearing and glazing the cock that slips in and out of you.

“Fuckin’ take me,” he heaves above you, just over the slaps of his sopping thrusts. Every grind buries himself deep into your heat, Logan losing himself in the feeling. At this moment, it’s all he’s ever wanted–to rail you until neither of you can’t think straight. Logan’s already there, unable to form a single coherent thought that doesn’t revolve around you. He fucks you well, ignoring the way the muscles in his ass burn nicely every time he plunges himself into you.

Logan can see you staring back up at him, and he’s sure he looks something pitiful. He can feel his eyes trying not to roll back in his head when your body bounces back upwards to meet his thrust. The hair that usually sits perfectly on his forehead sticks to his skin now, and he’s sure that his face is stuck in an expression of pure, fucked out rapture.

“God, you’ve got a pussy on you, dont’cha? Fucking incredible,” Logan murmurs, the fat head of his dribbling cock spearing you open.

A little grin teases at your lips, taking just enough time to catch Logan off guard for you to use your legs to keep him from moving after his next sink inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” the man shudders, eyes fluttering shut when you kiss him again. His world spins at your rolling over, head hitting the sheets at the way you stuff yourself full of him. Forcing his eyes open, Logan nearly closes them again. The sight and rush of you starting a leisurely rock is enough to inch him closer than he’s ready for.

“Shit, wait.” Even with the hand he squeezes strongly on the cheek of your ass, you keep steady in your grind. “Fucking wait.”

A low, forcing growl thunders through his voice, and he whips forward into a sitting position at a speed that has you seizing to grab at his shoulder. His grip finds the back of your neck, interrupting your gasp to yank your face just inches apart from his.

Your noses brush, eyes studying each other in a thick silence. Unable to help himself, Logan drags you into a long kiss. It steals whatever air is left in your legs, and doesn’t stop when he rolls his cock into you with a bite to your lip. It’s when you match his movements that the hand on your neck moves to the small of your back, helping you along.

“Attagirl. That’s better,” Logan praises between kisses, your hand sneaking under his arms to hook your grasp onto his wide shoulders. Your mouth slicks and pecks against Logan’s, waist easing into an intoxicating whine up and down his cock. “Fuck me, that’s it.”

Logan follows the words with a more forceful knocking of his cock into you, and he’s starting to lose it again. Before you know it, he’s flipped you onto your back once more, and your head almost hangs off the bed with the angle he’s contorted you both into.

Your bodies jerk and hump together with a new vigor. Logan can feel himself dwindling into nothing but a puddle of pitiful moans, eventually having to bury his mouth into the neck to muffle his strangled sobs. They rip from him anyway, vibrating with each flick of his hips.

All you can do is wrap your legs and take it, hanging on the man who’s got you seeing literal fucking stars.

“Fucking cream my cock, bub.”

You don’t have to tell Logan when you’re close. The harsh pulsing of your pussy around his dick alerts him well enough to rail you deeper. Pulling from your neck, Logan rises to watch as you look up at him, a mixture of lust and a hint of panic in your gaze.

“C-cover my mouth, cover my mouth,” you rush out, Logan barely sealing his hand over your lips before you’re falling apart around him. He fucks into you deep as you start to come, palm doing the bare minimum of dampening the long, loud moan that shreds your throat raw. Your hands don’t know what to do with themselves, clenching Logan then the sheets then Logan again while your body sputters under his with rough shakes.

“Such a good fucking girl,” Logan punctuates with matching thrusts, unable to stop his own wave from catching up with him. The first rope of cum spurts inside you when he bottoms out, the last of your peak squeezing him to a stomach-burning clench of his abs as he comes for you. The only thing that leaves his mouth are a slew of curses, all of them groaned with tightly shut eyes and a damp forehead pressing onto yours.

Logan pumps and pumps, removing his hand from your face to keep him from falling as you milk him into nothing but tiny whimpers and flinching aftershocks.

A hard, warm weight begins to sink against you, Logan’s breathing still shaky when you wrap an arm around his back. His cock remains inside you, twitching every now and again, some of his load seeping out of your still-stuffed center.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. He can’t say anything for a while, body feeling as if he’s floating. He can’t remember feeling this loose and free and adoring. He wants to sleep here. Can he sleep here?

“Can I sleep here?” Logan questions, voice hoarse with exhaustion. He smiles lazily at your answer.

“Only if you kiss me again.”

With the little energy he has left, Logan pulls his face to yours. He opts for your jaw first, kissing his way to your chin before planting a final kiss on your lips. This one is different, more careful than the rest. His eyes barely stay open when he retreats, pleased with the picture of your blissed-out expression.

Logan watches you attentively when he finally decides to pull out, his thumb reaching up to stoke at your cheek.

“Shh, shh,” he coos at your light gasp. “I know.”

“Still so big,” you groan quietly, and he shushes you with a peck to your head this time.

“I know, pretty, I know.”

He huffs when his cock falls all the way out, easing to lay next to you. His chest shines, damp, one of his arms folding behind his head while the other maneuvers you into his side. You give in to sleep fast, a cheek pressed into his built peck, and mouth open with steady puffs of warm air against his skin.

Six days, and he was yours. Six months, and you’re his–something certain when he wakes in the early morning to find you already staring back at him with those charming eyes and knowing twinkle.