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best-wolverine-22 · 17 days ago

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More Than A Name

Pairing: Trilogy Logan/Elias (Male OC)

A/N: This fanfic focuses on trans male Logan and his journey to find peace and reclaim his identity. I hope y'all enjoy this!

Warning(s): SMUT, Angst, porn w/plot, bottom Logan, FTM Logan, graphic violence, PTSD, dysphoria, dead naming (it will be "Jane" since his actual name is James), purposeful misgendering, mentions of sexual assault/rape, mentions of body horror, hurt/comfort, happy ending, AFAB terms for Logan's genitalia, sweet boyfriend OC

Word Count: 3.5K

The dim light of the bedroom cast shadows along the wall, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire. Logan's muscular frame lay sprawled on the bed, his dark hair damp against the pillow, his green-hazel eyes half-lidded as he gazed down at Elias with a mixture of hunger and vulnerability. The other man knelt between his thighs, hands resting gently on those hairy legs, his mouth dangerously close to Logan's throbbing clit. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, the tension in his body palpable as Elias leaned in closer.

"You're killin' me here, sweetheart", Logan murmured, his voice low and rough, like gravel smoothed by whiskey. His fingers twitched in Elias's hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down his spine. Elias smirked, his breath hot against the older man's slick folds, before diving in.

The younger man's tongue swirled around his clit, slow and deliberate, teasing Logan with agonizing precision. Logan's hips jerked off the bed, a strangled groan escaping his lips. "Fuck-!" His hand tightened in Elias's hair, guiding him where he wanted him, but the younger man didn't need encouragement. He already knew how to drive Logan wild!

Elias's fingers joined right in, sliding effortlessly into Logan's drenched pussy. He was so wet, every thrust of his fingers was accompanied by a lewd squelching noise with every slide in and out. Elias curled them just right, hitting that spot that made Logan's back arch and his toes curl. Logan's free hand clawed at the sheets, his breathing ragged as the younger man added a third finger, stretching him deliciously.

"Look at me", Elias demanded, his voice laced with authority. Logan's glassy eyes met the other's gaze, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted in a silent plea. The younger man maintained eye contact as he sped up his movements, tongue flicking his clit in rapid strokes. Logan's moans grew louder, more desperate, his body trembling under Elias's touch.

"That's it, pretty boy", Elias purred, voice dripping with affection and dominance. "Let go for me, Lo. Show me how good I make you feel."

Logan's orgasm hit him like a freight train, his body convulsing as he cried out Elias's name. His juices gushed out, coating the younger man's fingers and face with his essence. Elias didn't pull away, drinking in every drop as Logan rode out the waves of pleasure. When he finally collapsed back onto the bed, spent and panting, Elias hovered over him, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk.

Logan's heavy-lidded gaze followed the younger man's every move as Elias brought his sticky fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with exaggerated slowness. His clit throbbed in interest at the sight, a needy whine escaping Logan's lips.

"Your turn", Logan rasped, voice hoarse but determined. He reached for Elias, pulling him closer, his intentions clear in the way his hands roamed the other man's body. Elias could still feel the lingering tremors in his muscles, the aftermath of the pleasure he'd just wrung from Logan.

"Not yet", Elias whispered, brushing a strand of damp hair from Logan's forehead. "We're not done." Before the older man could protest, Elias's mouth was on him once again, his tongue lapping at Logan's sensitive clit with renewed fervor.

"Fuck-! Too much-!", he gasped, hips involuntarily bucking against Elias's face. But the younger man didn't let up, relentlessly pushing Logan toward another peak.

Logan's moans echoed through the room, raw and unfiltered, a symphony of desperation and ecstasy as Elias pushed him past the edge once more. His body shook violently, his hips lifting off the bed as he arched into his boyfriend's mouth, his clit throbbing under the younger man's relentless tongue. Every flick, every suck, every curl of Elias's tongue inside Logan was designed to wring every last drop of pleasure from him, and it was working. Logan's muscles tightened, his thighs trembling as they clamped around his boyfriend's head, trapping him in place. Elias didn't mind- Logan's urgency only fueled his determination to take him deeper, harder, and further.

Logan's voice broke on a guttural cry, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly they threatened to tear. "Fuck-! Fuck, sweetheart-!" he rasped, his words being barely coherent as another orgasm crashed over him like a fucking tidal wave. His juices gushed out, drenching Elias's face and fingers once again, the sheer intensity of it making him writhe against the bed. Elias didn't let up; he continued lapping at Logan's oversensitive clit, drawing out every little spasm until the older man was gasping for air, his body trembling more in the aftermath.

Logan's chest heaved as he collapsed back against the mattress once again, his skin slick with sweat, his face flushed with exertion. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, as he stared up at the ceiling while trying to catch his breath. But Elias still wasn't finished with Logan, not yet. The younger man leaned in, his lips brushing against Logan's inner thigh as he whispered, "You're so fucking beautiful like this." The older man shivered at Elias's words, a soft whine escaping his lips as his hips twitched involuntarily, still sensitive but already craving more.

Elias's fingers, slick with Logan's arousal, trailed up his thigh, teasing the hairy yet soft skin there before moving back to his aching cunt. The older man groaned, low and so needy, his body instinctively arching towards his boyfriend's touch. "Too much", Logan muttered, his voice hoarse, but his hands were already reaching for Elias, pulling him closer. The younger man smirked, recognizing the contradiction in his words and actions-he always wanted more, even when he claimed he couldn't take it anymore.

With a slow and deliberate movement, Elias pushed three fingers back inside him, savoring the way the older man's walls clenched around them. Logan's breath hitched, a strangled sound caught in his throat as Elias began to move. "That's it", the younger man murmured, his free hand stroking Logan's hip. "Let me take care of you." Logan's head fell back against the pillow, his eyes closing as a shudder ran through his body. His body was spent, but his desire was insatiable, and Elias was determined to give the older man everything he needed.

As Elias worked the older man toward yet another peak, Logan's moans grew louder and more desperate, a testament to the raw power of the connection between them. His fingers tangled into Elias's hair, guiding his mouth to his own as he whispered, "Please-don't stop." The younger man smiled against Logan's lips, tongue slipping into his mouth as he brought the older man crashing over the edge one final time.

Logan's body trembled violently, his thighs clamping around Elias's wrist as if to keep his fingers inside, his clit throbbing under the relentless attention of the man's thumb. His hips bucked wildly, lifting off the bed with the intensity of his release. "Fuck-! Sweetheart-!" he cried out, his voice raspy and broken, his hands fisting the sheets as his orgasm had torn through him. His juices continued to gush out, drenching Elias's hand; the sheer force of it all made his back arch and toss his head back against the pillows.

Elias didn't let up-couldn't let up. Logan's pleasure was intoxicating, addictive, and he was determined to draw every last bit of it. The younger man's fingers were still buried inside Logan, curling them just right to wring every spasm from his trembling body. He writhed beneath the younger man, his moans turning into incoherent gasps, his hands gripping tighter on the sheets as Elias pushed him past the point of no return.

Having mercy on Logan, Elias pulled away while licking his lips with a satisfied smirk. The older man looked up at his boyfriend with glassy and unfocused hazel eyes, face flushed, and his skin covered in a sheen of sweat. Logan's lips moved silently for a moment before he managed to whisper, "You're gonna be the death of me."

Elias chuckled softly, brushing a strand of damp hair from Logan's forehead once again. "But what a way to go, huh?" he teased, his voice low and sultry. Logan's lips twitched into a weak smile, his hand reaching up to cup his boyfriend's cheek, his touch tender despite his exhaustion. The younger man leaned into his palm, kissing it gently before trailing his lips down Logan's arm, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the way.

Logan's breath hitched as Elias's lips reached his chest, and though his body was spent, the younger man could feel the faint tremor of need still coursing through him. "You're too good t'me", he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the warmth of Elias's touch. The younger man pressed a kiss to the center of Logan's chest, right over his pounding heart, and whispered back, "Always."

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The quiet of the bedroom had settled over them. After a few precious hours of sleep, Logan awoke, feeling more whole than he ever had in centuries. The warmth of Elias's body next to his, the steady rhythm of his boyfriend's breathing-it was a peace he had once believed was impossible for him. They dressed in silence, a comfortable, shared intimacy as they pulled on their clothes. The world felt safe, a sanctuary carved out of years of chaos. As the two headed out of their bedroom, a low hum filled the air. It started as a barely perceptible vibration, a distant thrumming that felt out of place. It grew in intensity, a deep and mechanical groan that seemed to be coming from the very foundations of the mansion. A cold, metallic scent, like ozone and burnt wiring, began to seep into the room.

Then, a deafening blast tore through the night. The window shattered inward in a spray of glass, and a wave of pure force slammed into the mansion. Logan was down the hall in an instant, his adamantium claws extending with a vicious 'snikt'. But the comfort had vanished just as quickly. A searing, blinding pain ripped through his entire body. His healing factor, his very essence, sputtered and died. The immense, agonizing weight of the adamantium skeleton, a weight he hadn't felt in years, crushed him. He staggered, and a guttural roar of agony tore from his throat. He shakily brought his hands up close to his face, seeing blood pouring from the spots between his knuckles, where the claws appeared and disappeared.

"Power's gone", he managed to rasp out, his body trembling. "Someone took it."

The screaming and fighting started in the halls. An anti-mutant faction had made its move. Elias grabbed Logan's arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "No time", the younger man urged, his voice strained but firm. "We have to go, now!"

Logan felt like he was a liability. He was supposed to be the protector, but now he was a burden. All of the old, horrible memories of being powerless came flooding back. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic drum against a silent, screaming mind. He was just a weapon that had been disarmed, and he could feel the phantom sensation of restraints, the cold of a metal table. He was a body they had brutalized and used, and that feeling, the ultimate violation, had returned with a vengeance.

Elias pulled him along, dragging him down the halls and into the carnage of it. He was a beacon in the storm, a rock in the chaos. And Logan, who was used to being the savior, was now the one needing saving. He staggered behind Elias, every step a crushing weight of pain, fear, and helplessness.

They ducked into a small and dark utility closet, slamming the door shut and locking it with a frantic twist of the deadbolt. The darkness was an old, familiar enemy. It smelled of metal and antiseptic. Logan's body was pressed against the back wall, his knees drawn up in a desperate attempt to disappear. The tremors that had started in his hands had spread throughout his entire body, a bone-deep shivering that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Logan. Hey, it's just me. We're safe in here for a minute." Elias's voice was a low, steady balm in the chaos.

Logan didn't respond. He was a frantic, screaming jumble of fragments. The sterile steel walls of the lab. The cold, dispassionate voices talking about him as if he weren't there. He was a body that they had used, and he hadn't been able to stop them. That same feeling of powerlessness, of violation, was back.

"Logan, look at me", Elias urged, his fingers interlaced with Logan's, squeezing gently. "You're not there. You're with me. The door is locked. You're not strapped down. You're with me, Logan. Just focus on my voice. We need to get out of here. We need a plan."

The words broke through the noise. A plan. He had to be in control. He forced himself to take a deep breath, the stale closet air burning his lungs. He focused on the feeling of Elias's hand in his, the warmth, the life. That was real. The terror was a memory, but Elias was real.

"Okay", Logan rasped, his voice still choked with terror. "Okay. The sub-levels. The device might not reach there. We need to move. They'll find us here."

The moment the deadbolt clicked, the dull roar of the mansion swelled back. Logan moved like a man made of lead, every step a fresh and stabbing pain of agony. Elias kept a firm hand on his back, a solid presence that guided him through the rubble. They reached a hidden stairwell, its heavy steel doors leading to the sub-levels. They had made it. Logan's healing factor, which had been simmering, roared back to life with a jolt of fire. The deep, aching pain in his hands and across his body faded completely, replaced by a familiar warmth and a tingling sensation as his skin knit itself back together.

"We did it", Elias whispered, a hint of relief in his voice. "We're safe."

"For now", a cold yet calm voice echoed from the corridor.

A tall figure emerged from the shadows, a man in a clean white lab coat, holding a device that pulsed with a low, blue light. It was Dr. Kael. Dr. Valerius Kael. He had to be the son of one of the men who was there during the Weapon X experiment, because there was no way he was still alive!

"Hello, Jane", he said, the dead name a vile curse on the doctor's tongue.

Logan staggered, his entire body going rigid. The tremors were back, but this time they were fueled by a cold, hard rage. "It's Logan", he growled, the word a feral rumble deep within his chest.

Dr. Kael's thin smile only widened. "It hardly matters. A name is just a costume, isn't it, Jane? Something you wear when you pretend you're whole."

Logan's blood ran cold. Dr. Kael was a perfect reflection of his past, and the fear, a sickness he had just managed to choke down, rose up in his throat. Dr. Kael ignored Logan's correction, now speaking directly to Elias.

"The adamantium is the truth of who she is, isn't it? It's a testament to the fact that she was never a person, just an experiment. A weapon we built and shaped. We gave her the metal. Even her identity."

Logan felt a tremble run through his entire body. He was back on that metal table, strapped down, the pain and humiliation a constant, sickening presence. The memories of the violations, the cold, detached hands, the feeling of being an object, a thing to be used and discarded-it all came rushing back. The horror of it all felt so real that he could almost feel the phantom restraints on his body.

"And now she wants to be a man?" Dr. Kael scoffed, his eyes scanning Logan's body with a look of revulsion. "A he? We saw what you were, Jane. We saw all of you. We saw the true you underneath the act. You're nothing but an animal, a specimen, a woman that once belonged to us. We gave you a purpose. And we can take it away just as easily."

Logan's defiance was breaking. He stumbled back a step, Dr. Kael's words a physical assault on his identity. "Don't call me that", he whispered, his voice a pathetic whimper, his rage replaced by a crushing despair. Dr. Kael's voice grew colder than ice, his eyes glancing down at Logan's crotch before looking at the older man's face.

"The 'man' you think you are... that's a joke. You're a body that was violated repeatedly. You're a canvas of our work, a testament to human dominance. You belonged to us, and you always will. That's why you hunted them all down, isn't it? Every single one of them. You killed each and every man who ever touched you in that facility, but it didn't bring you peace, did it? It didn't make you complete. It made you into a monster."

A brief, horrifying flashback slammed into Logan's mind- the cold, metal table, a hand pushing him down, a voice saying, "It's all part of the process, Jane." He was confined. His vision fogged, and his body went slack. His head hung low, and his shoulders sank with defeat. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't even a man. He was just a weapon, a broken toy to be tormented and used. His eyes, his vision now hazy and unfocused, stared blankly at the floor. He had given up.

"Logan", Elias's voice, a lifeline in the darkness, snapped through the fog of his trauma. "Don't listen to him. He's lying! He doesn't know you!"

Dr. Kael raised his device, its blue light intensifying, but it was too late. He had broken Logan, or so the doctor had thought.

Yes, Dr. Kael's words were a cold and hard slap to the face, but Elias's voice... His voice was the fist. There was a burst of anger within his chest, a primitive, intense act of defiance he hadn't experienced since he'd escaped the lab. This man was a fraud. He wasn't something to possess. He wasn't imprisoned. He wasn't Jane. He was Logan.

"You're wrong", he growled, his voice a deep, feral rumble. "I'm a man. And you're just a dead asshole." His eyes, now clear and full of a cold and focused fury, locked onto Dr. Kael.

"Elias", Logan said, his voice a low and dangerous growl. "Run." Elias ran off and past the evil doctor, and back to the main part of the mansion to help the students and the other adults.

Before Dr. Kael could process what was happening, Logan was on him in an instant, his claws extending with a vicious 'snikt'. He was no longer a victim. He was a force to be reckoned with, and this time, he was fighting for himself, for his sanity, and for the man he loved. The battle was brief, brutal, and decisive. Dr. Kael, for all his clinical detachment, was no match for a man who had finally reclaimed his identity.

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Some time after the battle and the destruction of the device that caused them to lose their mutations, Logan and Elias found themselves in their bedroom, the younger man tending to the other's fading wounds. His touch was still gentle as he dabbed antiseptic on a cut that was already closing. The pain was gone, but the emotional scars were raw.

Logan sat on their bed, his back against the pillows, his gaze distant. He had won the fight, but Dr. Kael's words still echoed in his mind.

"He was wrong, you know", Elias whispered, sitting down next to him. "About all of it. You're not an experiment. You're not an animal. You're the best man I've ever known."

Logan turned to face Elias, his eyes holding a fragile vulnerability. "He knew... everything. My name. The things they did to me. The things I did back." His voice broke, the tough exterior cracking. "I was just a body to them."

Elias reached out, his hand covering Logan's. "You were, but you're not anymore. They gave you the metal, you gave yourself a soul. They tried to take your identity, but you fought and you took it back. They violated your body, but you own it now. And it's beautiful, Logan. It's beautiful, and it's all yours."

Logan looked down at their hands, at the simple and comforting contact, and a single tear traced a path down his cheek. It wasn't a tear of pain, but of release. For the first time, the memories didn't feel like a cage. They felt like a history he had survived. He was still a man, and he was still here.

He pulled Elias closer, but the intimacy was different. There was no desperate hunger, no need to prove anything to anyone. It was a quiet, gentle act of reassurance. It was a kiss that healed. a touch that soothed, a moment of profound peace that proved the monster inside him had finally been silenced. It was replaced by the warmth and unconditional love of the man who saw him for exactly who he was: whole and home.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading!

This story was a deep dive into the psychological horror of Logan's past and the profound healing he finds in a loving relationship. The central theme of the fic, "More Than A Name," is the idea that our identity is something we forge, not something that can be stolen from us. Logan’s journey to reclaim his sense of self is a testament to his strength, and Elias's presence is the sanctuary that makes that healing possible.

I hope you enjoyed this emotional ride. Comments and likes are always appreciated!

#logan howlett #logan howlett smut #x men movies #trilogy logan howlett #logan howlett angst #trans logan smut #trans wolverine

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best-wolverine-22 · 26 days ago

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Love this man! This man deserved a better one than he was dealt!!

Logan Howlett / The Wolverine. Xmen: Days of Future Past (2014) dir. Bryan Singer

#x men #wolverine #hugh jackman #logan howlett #xmen dofp #xmen days of future past #dofp! logan #chubby logan

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best-wolverine-22 · 27 days ago

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The Unspoken Promise - DOFP Logan

A/N: Hope y'all are ready for this chapter, guys! Things are going to get spicy, but also sweet! I enjoyed writing this!!

Warning(s): SMUT, unprotected PIV, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tender intimacy, mentions of anxiety, Top DOFP Logan, Soft DOFP Logan, Logan is still grieving, sweet DOFP Logan, squirting/female ejaculate, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving)

Setting: Entirely in your bedroom at the X-Mansion, in 1973. The night before you guys head to Washington, D.C.

Word Count: 1.7K

Timelines of Healing Desire series

A bit of time passed after Logan had his time alone, needing to get his head straight, and after the debriefing for Washington, D.C., he had found you in your bedroom. Not a refuge, but a cage full of your own anxiety. You were curled up on the bed, hugging your knees to your chest, a fine tremor running through your entire frame. What you were feeling had hit him with a raw, palpable energy harder than any Sentinel attack. You were just now understanding the terrifying reality of what was to come.

"I can sense it", you whispered, your voice just barely audible. "The world... It's heavy. The future feels... wrong."

Your words were like an arrow to his heart. The anguish on your face, the fear racking through your entire body- it was a memory made flesh. He had seen this look on his version of you many times in the past. In the ruins of the future, before a dangerous mission, you had hung onto him with that same fear in your eyes.

A profound ache of love and grief tore at him, his gruff facade crumbling at the sight of your vulnerability. You weren't his Y/N, but seeing you like this, so fear ridden, made his heart ache in a familiar way. He remembered the only thing that had calmed you, the only thing that had ever quieted the storm of your unique emotional awareness. Words were useless then, and they were useless now.

He moved to the bed, not with the predatory confidence of a predator, but with the quiet tenderness of a man desperately trying to mend a broken soul. He sat on the edge of the mattress, his large and calloused hand reaching out to you. He didn't speak. He offered you the one thing he knew how to give: his quiet strength.

You uncurled slightly, your gaze meeting his, and in his green hazel eyes, you didn't just see a reflection of your unyielding fear, but the unyielding love you've never seen before. You saw a promise, a promise that he would be your rock during the storm, your refuge within the storm. A promise to save you and heal you in the only way he knew how.

His lips then crashed into yours, desperate and demanding. There wasn't any hesitation, no slow build. His kiss was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its wake. His tongue pushed into your mouth, and you opened for him willingly and eagerly. The taste of him- smoke, whiskey, and something uniquely him- flooded your senses, and you moaned into the kiss, your hands gripping the front of his shirt.

He pulled back just enough to get a good look at you, his eyes dark and hooded. "I can't lose you again", he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "Not this time."

Before you could respond, his hands were on you, undressing you with a mix of urgency and care. His fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt with unsurprised ease, along with surprising dexterity. Each one slipped free until the fabric fell open, exposing your bare skin. His breathing had hitched as he took in the sight of you, his gaze sweeping over your frame with an intensity that made your stomach coil with heat.

"Logan-", you started, but he cut you off with another kiss, this one being softer and more controlled. His hands traced the lines of your body, mapping every curve and dip as if committing them to memory. In a way, he knew your body like the back of his hand. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

He lowered you onto the bed gently, his large frame hovering over yours. His lips trailed kisses down your neck, nipping and licking at the sensitive skin before moving lower. He kissed your collarbone, your sternum, as well as the curve of your breast. As soon as his mouth closed around a nipple, you gasped, arching into him. His tongue swirled around the peak, teasing it to a hard nub before carefully biting down, sending a jolt of pleasure to your core.

His large hand slid down your stomach, dipping into the space in between your thighs. He paused, his fingertips brushing against the slick heat of your pussy, causing you to whimper and buck your hips in silent pleading.

"God, you're soaked", he growled, his voice thick with desire. He slipped a single finger inside you, curling it just so, and you cried out in response, and your nails dug into his shoulders. He then added a second, then a third, stretching you slowly and deliberately. His thumb found your clit, rubbing circles that made your vision turn white.

When Logan lowered his head between your thighs, you thought you would come undone then and there. His tongue flicked at your aching clit once, twice, and then he began to devour you like he was a starving man, leaving you gasping. He alternated between licking and sucking, his fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. The pressure in your core built quickly, a coiled spring getting ready to snap.

"Oh God-Logan-I'm going to-" Your words were cut off into a choked moan as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of pure bliss that had you trembling. He didn't stop, though, didn't give you a moment to recover from the first climax. He kept working you through it, drawing out every last shiver until you were a writhing mess beneath him.

By the time Logan had pulled away from your overly sensitive pussy, he had dragged out two more orgasms from you. He didn't want you getting hurt when he finally gave you his cock. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling back up your body, placing kisses on the corners of your lips to help soothe you. You were a shaky mess beneath him, and he couldn't help but enjoy the sight.

His eyes locked onto yours as he pulled away and unbuckled his belt, shoving his pants down just far down enough to free himself. His cock was thick and heavy, the tip glistening with precum. He stroked himself a few times, to make sure he was still hard enough, as he used his hand to position himself at your entrance, the head nudging against your drenched folds.

"Look at me", he ordered, his voice rough yet gentle.

You did as he asked, your gaze never leaving his as he pushed into you slowly, inch by excruciating inch. But as you felt the weight of his cock pressing into you, the overwhelming intimacy and raw emotion were too much. You started sobbing, your body still trembling beneath him, overstimulated by the previous three mind-blowing orgasms this man had just given you.

He saw your tears, could practically taste them as he started placing kisses on your cheeks, and immediately softened. He was no longer a man consumed by need, but a man consumed by tenderness. "Hey, hey", he cooed softly, a sound so out of place from him that it had brought on another wave of sobs. "It's alright, darlin'. I gotcha. It's okay. I'm not gon' let anything happen to you. I'm right here."

He moved so his forehead was pressed against yours, his green hazel eyes burning with an intense and unyielding light. For him, the sensation of you wrapped around him was a homecoming, a sense of being anchored after a lifetime of drifting. He felt the warmth of you, the tight and slick heat of your body surrounding his, and for the first time in what felt like eternity, he felt whole. He then began moving at a slow and deliberate rhythm that was both a desperate act of love and a gentle exploration.

Each thrust he made was a silent question, and your low moans and shifting hips were a perfect answer. Your body reacted to his movements, your hips rising to meet his. You could feel every single inch, every ridge of his cock, and the intense pleasure of it was almost too much for you to bear. The pace soon increased, gradually, the passion building into a hopeless, frantic rhythm that left you both gasping for air. He plunged deeper, his body a hard and powerful presence within yours, his love and grief pouring into you with every thrust.

"Just let go", he growled, his voice a low and encouraging rumble in your ear. This time, his hand left your hip and found your clit, his thumb expertly rubbing it in a familiar rhythm. The sensation was electrifying, the pressure building with every move he made inside, a fiery storm of ecstasy that left your mind blank and your body scorching.

The friction continued building, the heat intensifying, until you felt the familiar coil form deep within you, the unmistakable signs of another orgasm on the horizon. Your back arched, your thighs squeezing his sides, your hips continuously bucking to meet his every thrust as a powerful and unstoppable orgasm began to build. You cried out his name over and over again, your nails scratching at his shoulders, as a gush of warmth left you, coating his length as you squirted, your body shaking violently beneath his.

Logan's eyes widened at the feeling and the sight, pulling back to get a better look, having felt the sudden and hot rush of your release against his cock and pelvis. The sensation was electric, a primal turn-on that short-circuited his mind and drove him closer to the edge. "Goddamn, baby", he groaned, his voice thick and reverent. "You're incredible." The sight of you, convulsing beneath him so much, and the feel of your body giving itself over completely and fully to him, was the final push needed. With a guttural roar, he drove deep inside you one last time and emptied himself, his own body shuddering with the force of his own climax.

He collapsed against you, his forehead resting against yours as his heart pounded with a furious rhythm against yours. The silence that had followed was thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. He rolled to his side, pulling you close with him, his arms a protective cage around you. He buried his face in your hair, his breath warm against your scalp.

"I won't lose you again", he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, a promise against the fragile peace of the room. In that moment, held in his arms, you felt a connection that transcended time, a bond forged in grief and ignited by a desperate, undeniable love.

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A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed that as much as I did! It was really fun to do this! Keep an eye out for the fourth chapter!

#logan howlett #x men movies #logan howlett smut #dofp! logan #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett angst #logan howlett x reader #xmen dofp

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best-wolverine-22 · 28 days ago

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A Ghost in The Present- DOFP Logan

A/N: First time writing for DOFP Logan! So, hopefully I can do him some justice! This will be in 4 parts (for now), so keep an eye out for the other parts! I'm focused today, part 3 might come out, too!!

Warning(s): major character death (yours, graphic depiction), intense battle and fighting scenes, extreme emotional trauma & grief, grim dystopian setting, strong language and profanity, deep emotional & romantic tension, flashback to Logan's trauma

Setting: The main flashback takes place in 2022 at the ancient temple in the mountains of China, a year before Logan's current timeline. The flashback of you two meeting takes place in a bustling airport, a direct reference to the post-credit scene of The Wolverine (2013).

Word Count: 2.4K

Timelines of Healing Desire series

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

He wouldn’t fail. The words were a promise, a desperate prayer. But promises meant nothing in the face of what had already happened. The fresh wound of it, a year old to the day, was all that kept Logan going. He closed his eyes, and the church, the forest, and the fragile present all fell away, replaced by the roar and chaos of a day he could never forget.

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The year was 2022. Outside, a perpetual storm raged, summoned by Storm herself, a swirling shield of wind and lightning around the ancient temple nestled in the mountains of China. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and wet stone, the atmosphere practically vibrating with the immense power it was wielding. Inside, the last of the X-Men resistance was a picture of desperate hope. Charles was hunched over Cerebro, his face pale with strain, his telepathic senses a strained wire-thin barrier against the Sentinel swarm.

"They've adapted", Charles rasped, his voice barely a whisper in their minds. "They've found a way through the storm."

Erik, with a sullen expression on his face, used his ability to reinforce the heavy doors, his hands trembling with the effort. "Then, we buy them time", his voice cold and hard. "Enough to get out."

Bobby and Kitty stood side by side, their hands intertwined. Bobby's body was covered in a thin layer of ice, a defense he was preparing, while Kitty's face was a mask of terror, and her grip on his hand was bone-white. "I can't phase us all out, Bobby," she whispered, her voice cracking with fear. "There are too many of them."

"We'll get them", Bobby promised, his voice hollow even to his own ears.

Bishop, his arms glowing with charged energy, paced like a caged tiger. He glanced at Colossus, who stood guard at the door. "Just give us the word, Piotr."

"I am ready", Colossus replied, his voice a deep, metallic rumble. "We will hold the line."

Blink, a blur of motion and power, was creating portals at the far end of the chamber, their shimmering, unstable edges a beacon of desperate hope. She stumbled, a trail of sweat and blood running down her face. "It's all I've got! The energy... it's draining me!"

In the center of it all, Rogue, her hands trembling, staring down at them like they were a curse. Logan stood close to her, his claws itching for release. But it was Y/N, his wife, who grounded him. Her hand found his, her fingers lacing through his with a comforting familiarity. "We'll be okay", she murmured, her voice a steady balm in the riptide of panic. "We always are."

It was a lie and they both knew it. This wasn't just another patrol. This was the end. He looked at her, at the strength in her hands, a different memory, older and gentler, flickered in his mind.

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The year was 2013. Logan was a nomad, a ghost, a drifter in a world that had forgotten hope. He had just went through the metal detector and x-ray scanner at the Montréal-Mirabel International Airport, and he saw them; Charles and Erik, two men he hadn't seen in decades, their faces a stark reminder of a past he tried to outrun. But it was you standing there along with them that had caught his eye. You were slender and agile, with an easy confidence that stood out in the bustling terminal. Your piercing gaze met his, and for a moment, his world tilted. He saw not a ghost, but a presence-a deep-seated strength that reminded him of his own.

You were part of their fledgling group, he learned, already a seasoned mutant with a unique emotional manipulation ability that was a source of comfort for them all. You also had the same healing ability as him, which he thought wasn't possible. Your scent was something fresh and wild, a mixture of pine and rain, and it made him take a deep, shaky breath. "You lost, big guy", you asked, your voice was low and calm, with a quiet strength that made him pause in his tracks. That was how it began; with a look, a question, and a deep, unspoken understanding.

It was among the rubble of a broken world that the romance between you two blossomed. The bond was forged in fire by the shared missions and the quiet moments in between. He was captivated by your strength and determination along with your unwavering optimism in the face of disaster. After a particularly harsh assignment, he would frequently find you with wounds and bruises all over your body. But like him, you would heal, your capacity for regeneration a secret pledge to live in a world that was out to destroy them all. He really saw you during one of those times, when he watched your wounds mend themselves.

The year was 2018, and you two have been together for 5 years at this point. The war was getting worse. The world was more broken, but you two had each other, and that's all that mattered. You two were in a small, cramped room in a broken down church in what remained of the American Midwest. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and fear. You were both exhausted, your bodies aching, but you were both still alive. Logan looked at you, the woman who had become his everything, and a wave of raw, unyielding emotion washed over him. He knew he couldn't live without you, not in this world or any other. He reached out with a shaky hand, and took yours in his. "Marry me", he said, his voice gruff but firm. "Marry me, and let's survive this together." You didn't hesitate. You looked up at him, your eyes sharp and intelligent, and you smiled. "Yes, Logan. I'll marry you."

You were married in 2019, in a quiet, intimate moment. You two stood before a young priest in the broken-down church, you both made your vows. Charles and Erik were there was witnesses to your union, watching in silence and support. You both promised to love, to honor, and cherish each other, to be one another's rock while the world was falling apart. You were not just husband and wife; you two were a symbol of the future, a promise that you two would fight for a world where you both could be happy. And as the priest officiated the union, Logan leaned in and kissed you. It was a kiss of raw, unyielding, emotion, a kiss that sealed the fate of you two, a kiss that would forever be apart of the love story you both shared.

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The temple's heavy doors blew inward as a thunderous shriek ripped through the air, sending Sentinel components rushing into, their bodies morphing and bending to fit the cramped space. The initial wave was merely a distraction. Bishop yelled as the smaller sentinels blasted a barrage of plasma fire into the air, absorbing the energy and retaliating. Three of the machines were engulfed by the rift that Colossus made as he slammed his fist into the earth. However, they were only postponing the inevitable.

The second wave, a single, towering Mark X, moved with a silent and terrifying purpose. Its form was an unholy combination of metal and alien technology, its face a blank malevolent visor that seemed to be able to see right through all of their defenses. "Rogue!" Charles's voice was a telepathic scream in all of their minds.

The Sentinel's hand reached out, a blinding arc of energy that was meant to incapacitate the young girl. Rogue cried out, her powers flaring uselessly.

But Y/N was faster.

"Rogue, get down", you yelled, your body a blur of motion as you threw yourself in front of her.

The blast, a flood of pure energy, slammed into you. Logan's blood ran cold as he watched your healing factor struggle to keep up, your skin sizzling and flesh trying to repair itself even as it was being torn apart. It wasn't just his blood that ran cold, everyone else's did, too. Charles's mind shrieked in silent agony, his face pale and tear-stained. Storm, her face contorted with rage and grief, unleashed a whirlwind of lightning, a futile assault against the machine's impenetrable form.

For a split second, a choked gasp was heard. Not from Rogue, but from Logan. The man didn't just watch you die. He roared, a primal sound of pain and fury, his claws unsheathing from his knuckles. He charged the Sentinel, but it had already learned from his previous attack. The machine's form shifted, a new energy weapon forming on its arm. A blast shot out, a blinding arc of energy that slammed into her once again. Logan's claws were buried in the machine's chest, but it was already too late. The machine simply twisted and threw him aside like a rag doll. He landed hard, his body slamming against a stone pillar, the impact having cracked his ribs. He tried getting back up, but the Sentinel was already adapting, shifting its form once again, a new energy weapon forming on its arm.

"No!" Erik screamed, his hands shaking as he tore a support beam from the ceiling and hurled it at the Sentinel. "You will not take her away from me, too!" He had seen you as more of a daughter, despite you being centuries older than him.

It had adapted. It fired, and the blast was focused, continuous, a devastating current of power that was meant to overwhelm even healing factors. Your body spasmed, your healing factor pushed to its absolute limit. "Go", you managed to choke out, your eyes locking onto Logan's. A final, heartbreaking plea.

Your voice was the last thing he ever heard. With a final, agonizing shriek that had ripped through the minds of everyone in the room, the Sentinel's blast intensified and your body wasn't torn apart, but utterly consumed. Not even a whisper of ash remained.

The screams afterwards were not one from a battle, but from a profound, collective grief. Kitty collapsed, sobbing, her grip on Bobby's hand going limp. Charles’s mind shrieked in silent agony, his face even paler and more tear-stained. And Logan stood there, frozen, his claws buried in the charred wood of the floor, his scream a silent, internal agony that would forever burn at the core of his soul. You were gone. Not killed, not broken, but erased.

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Logan's eyes snapped open, the memory's blackness shattering like glass. He returned to the present, but not the one he had left behind. The scent of pine and earth filled the crisp, cool air. You were standing directly next to him at the edge of the woodland. You turned to look at him again, your eyes keen with interest and something more profound, reflecting the agony that had suddenly engulfed him. You sensed what he had just gone through, even though you had no idea what he had witnessed. Unspoken between you was the weight of his sorrow, the icy fear that suddenly enveloped him like a veil. He felt the weakness of his impenetrable bone claws for the first time in his long life, the weight of two timelines gripping him like a vice. It was a stark reminder of the life he had just lost, and an even starker reminder of the life he had yet to live.

You reached for his hand, your fingers lacing through his, a comforting gesture that was now tinged with an edge of anxiety. "Hey", you whispered, your voice so soft that it barely carried through the still air. "What's wrong?" The feelings flowing from him were so raw and so intense that they felt like an unpleasant weight in your chest, even though you were unaware of what exactly you were feeling. His love, his anger, and his grief were all intertwined into a tight, cruel knot that you could feel.

He recoiled and pulled his hand away from yours as though your touch had scorched him. He couldn't do this. Not with you. He wasn't sure he could even safeguard this version of you, so vibrant and full of a future. "Nothing", he growled, a low growl with a harsh, merciless edge in his voice. "Let's just go."

You gazed at him, the anguish you were experiencing reflected in your eyes. "Don't lie to me", you gently commanded, your voice holding a silent strength. "I can sense it. You feel as though the entire world is resting on your shoulders."

He turned away form you, his shoulders slumped and the weight of his sorrow palpable in the cool air. He couldn't be honest with you. He couldn't tell you about the future, about the Sentinels, about the war, or about the fact that he'd have to watch you die a second time. It was a secret that he would have to carry alone for the rest of his life.

But he had a goal, a commitment to fulfil. A future to change, and a wife he was going to save. He had no time to get sidetracked. He needed to concentrate, to drive the memories of the past back into the shadows of his mind, and to focus on the present, on the living, breathing version of you standing right beside him now.

As he turned to face you, his eyes reflected the anguish that he was feeling. "I can't tell you", he admitted in a gruff yet firm voice. "I can't tell you, but I promise you, I'll protect you."

You were at a loss for words. You simply gazed up at him, your eyes conveying the anguish you were feeling from him. But you understood. The words weren't necessary for you to know. His promise, love, and pain were all entangled in a tight, harsh knot that you could feel.

And for the first time in your young life, you experienced a love you were now starting to comprehend, as well as the weight of a future you hadn't yet lived. You were prepared, even though the road ahead was unpredictable. You were prepared to fight, to love, to hope, to alter the course of events. You were prepared to be his pillar of support, his motivator for battle, as well as his rock.

The walk back to the X-Mansion was silent, the unspoken weight of Logan’s grief hanging heavy in the air between them. As the two of you entered, Charles was waiting, and the immense, agonizing psychic scream of Logan’s sorrow hit him like a physical blow. Logan flinched, his shoulders hunching as he tried to block the telepathic intrusion, his desperate need to be alone overriding everything else. Without a word, he turned and walked away, a ghost in his own timeline, leaving a palpable wave of grief and despair in his wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed this! I don't typically write angst, but it was actually pretty interesting to write! It was a challenge!

#logan howlett smut #chapter 2 #logan howlett #x men movies #dofp! logan #x men dofp #logan howlett x reader #wolverine smut

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best-wolverine-22 · 28 days ago

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Timelines of Healing Desire (DOFP Logan series)

Key:

🩷- fluff

🔥- smut

🌧️- angst (hurt/comfort, slight angst)

✨- Wolvie's personal favorite

About:

In a bleak, post-apocalyptic 2023, Logan is given one final mission: travel back in time to 1973 to prevent the creation of the Sentinels. His singular motivation, however, is not just to save mutantkind, but to save the one person he lost—his wife, you.

But when he arrives in the past, he finds a younger, fiercer version of you, alive and with your own unique story. Haunted by the memory of your death in his timeline, Logan is tormented by grief while being drawn to this new, vibrant woman. He must join forces with a young Professor X and Magneto to stop the looming threat of the Sentinels, but the true battle is internal.

The series explores a desperate race against time as Logan struggles with the weight of two timelines: the past he’s trying to save and the future he’s trying to erase. He knows he can’t lose you again, and his mission becomes a brutal fight for a second chance at love, even if it means altering the very fabric of history.

A Future's Echo 🌧️

About: Logan entered an abandoned church, senses heightened, and encountered a familiar yet different version of Y/N, who was unafraid and curious. They shared a tense, emotional moment, with Logan struggling to reconcile his past with the present. As they had left the church, Logan vowed to protect this version of her, determined to change the future.

A Ghost In the Present 🌧️

About: The emotional core of Logan's mission and the personal tragedy that drives him. The chapter is a deep dive into Logan's memories, flashing forward to the year 2022 and the final, devastating battle against the Sentinels. Within this memory, Logan reflects on the life he shared with Y/N, from their first meeting in 2013 to their marriage in 2019. The narrative builds to the heartbreaking climax of the flashback: Y/N's death, which is the source of the profound grief and pain that Logan carries. The chapter concludes as he is pulled back to 1973, where his fresh trauma creates a painful and unspoken barrier between him and the younger version of the woman he is fighting to save.

The Unspoken Promise 💗🔥🌧️

About: Reeling from the memory of losing you in the future, Logan finds you in your bedroom, anxious about the upcoming mission. The intimacy that follows is less about physical desire and more about a desperate need to connect. It is an act of solace for you and a way for Logan to anchor himself to the present. The experience is emotionally overwhelming, serving as a powerful release for both of you. Logan holds you close, whispering a vow to never lose you again—an unspoken promise that solidifies his love and his resolve to change the future.

Part IV

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best-wolverine-22 · 28 days ago

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A Future's Echo- DOFP Logan

A/N: First time writing for DOFP Logan! So, hopefully I can do him some justice! This will be in 4 parts (for now), so keep an eye out for the other parts! I'm focused today, part 2 may come out today, too!!

Warning(s): A little angst/emotional trauma, eventual smut (in 3rd chapter), tender DOFP Logan, grieving DOFP Logan, Mutant Fem Reader, you were Logan's wife in the 2023 timeline, character death mention (your death in Logan's timeline), your abilities are quick regenerative healing (Like Logan's) and subtle emotional manipulation, sexual tension, implied violent past, adult language. Lemme know if I'm missing anything!

Setting: Set in 1973, when Logan is sent back in time. After waking up in that bed with the other woman, but before going to the X-Mansion.

Word Count: 1.3K

Timelines of Healing Desire series

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

The church was like a tomb, its cracked, stained glass filtering the cold light of a dying sun. Logan's boots crunched as he stepped on broken debris as he stepped inside, his senses on high alert. The metallic stench of rusted hinges with the faintest hint of mildew, but it wasn't the decay that had him on edge and made his jaw tighten. It was the silence-the kind that comes before a nasty storm.

He moved like a shadow, his powerful frame coiled tight, every muscle in his body getting ready to spring. The claws in his hands itched for release, but he forced them to stay at bay. This wasn't the future he left behind-not yet, at least. He just needed to stay sharp.

A soft rustle broke the eerie stillness. His head snapped towards the sound, his nostrils flaring as he took in the scent.

Mutant. Female.

The scent was familiar, though he couldn't place why. It tugged at something deep, something raw and aching. His chest tightened as he stepped closer, his boots barely making a sound against the stone floor.

"You lost, big guy?" The voice was low, calm, and it had quite an edge to it-a quiet strength that made him stop. The figure stepped into the dim light, the figure silhouetted against the shattered window. Slender, agile, with piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through him.

His gaze locked onto the figure, the person before him, and for a moment, the world tilted. You. It couldn't be. You looked different-younger, fiercer-but there was no mistaking that presence. It was you, not his version of you. This was someone else entirely, yet the same in ways he couldn't explain.

"Not lost", he rumbled, his voice gravelly from disuse. "Just lookin'."

You tilted your head, studying him with a mix of curiosity and caution. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"You could say that." He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something about the way you held yourself-unafraid, unyielding-that stirred something primal deep within him. His hand twitched, begging to reach out, just to see if you were real.

You didn't flinch as he closed the distance between you two. If anything, you lifted your chin, a silent challenge in your gaze. "You've got a lot of baggage for someone who's 'just lookin'.'"

Logan's lips tugged into a faint smirk, his signature smirk. "Got a talent for sniffing out trouble", he said, his tone dry, but not unkind.

"Or maybe trouble's just drawn to you", you countered, your lips curving into a small smile. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but it had hit him like a punch to the gut. That smile... it was yours. It was yours.

He swallowed hard, the memory of you-of his you-flashing behind his eyes. The way you'd look at him, the way you'd laugh, the way you had died-protecting someone else, protecting Rogue, always putting others before yourself. His chest heaved as he tried to push the image away, but it clung to him like a shadow.

"You okay?" Your voice softened, concern flickering in your eyes. You stepped closer, your hand brushing his arm as if you were testing the waters. To see if he was okay with that. The contact was light, barely there, but it sent a jolt through him regardless.

"Fine", he growled, the words coming out rougher than he intended them to. He didn't pull away, though. Your touch was grounding, pulling him back from the edge of something dark and endless.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you two crackled with unspoken tension, thick and heavy. Your gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes, and he felt it-the pull, the undeniable draw. He wanted to kiss you, to lose himself in you, to forget the future he was trying to erase.

But he didn't. Instead, he took a step backward, his jaw tightening. "We should get moving", he said, his voice gruff but firm.

You nodded, though there was a flicker of something in your eyes-disappointment? Curiosity?-before you turned and led the way out of the church.

As the two of you walked, Logan couldn't shake the feeling that your presence had stirred inside him. It was more than attraction-it was recognition. In this version of you, he saw glimpses of the woman he'd loved and lost, and it scared the absolute hell out of him because he knew one thing for certain:

He couldn't lose you again. The thought resonated through him like a second heartbeat, raw and unrelenting. As you two continued to walk, the weight of two timelines was carried on his shoulders-the future where he'd lost everything, and the fragile present where you stood beside him, alive and breathing. Your scent lingered in the air, a mixture of something fresh and wild, grounding him despite it bringing forth memories he tried to bury. His version of you-your laugh, your touch, the way you'd look at him like he was worth a damn-flashed in his mind, a ghost he couldn't ever outrun. This version of you was different, yet achingly familiar, and it terrified him with how much he wanted to protect you, to keep you safe from the horrors he knew were coming.

Your steps were light, almost silent, but he could still feel your presence like a physical force. Every now and then, you would glance back at him, your eyes sharp with curiosity and something deeper, something that he couldn't quite name. It wasn't the mission alone that tied you two together; there was a thread of understanding between you two, unspoken but undeniable. You didn't know him, not really, but he saw the way you watched him- like you were trying to piece together the puzzles of his silence, the weight he had to carry. And God, if you only knew the truth, the pain that clawed at him every time he looked at you.

Logan clenched his fists; the sharp ache of his bone claws beneath his skin was a cruel reminder of where and when he was. 1973. The time before the adamantium, before everything that hardened him and made him the man he had become. He wanted to tell you everything-the future, about you, about the love he'd lost and the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he could rewrite it all. But the words had stuck in his throat, the fear of altering things too much, too soon. He couldn't risk it, not yet, at least. So, he stayed quiet, his gruff silence a fragile shield against the constant storm raging inside him. The weight of two timelines pressed down on him like a fucking vice, and for the first time in his long life, he felt the vulnerability of his unyielding bone claws, a stark reminder of the life he hadn't yet lived.

As the two of you reached the edge of the forest, the tension between y'all had intensified. You paused, facing him fully. Your gaze was steady, searching, and for a moment, he felt as if he were stripped bare under your scrutiny. "You're carrying a lot", you said softly, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "I can feel it. Whatever it is... You don't have to shoulder it alone."

Your words hit him harder than he expected, and he had to look away, his jaw tightening as he had fought to keep his composure. You don't know, he reminded himself. You can't. But God, it hurt to hear you say it-to feel you reaching out to him in a way that mirrored the future he'd left behind.

He couldn't lose you again. That one truth burned brighter than anything else, a beacon in the darkness that guided his way. As you two moved forward, Logan swore that no matter what it took, he'd find a way to change the future. Not just for mutantkind, but for you. This time, he wouldn't fail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed this! Typically, I don't write angst, but there's a first for everything! 🩷

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best-wolverine-22 · 1 month ago

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The Wolverine's Retreat

A/N: This is for @princessanglophile for the "Wet Hot Logan Summer" ficathon hosted by @lareinedulune.

Pairing: Old Man Logan X Fem Reader

Warning(s): age gap (consensual), unprotected PIV, implied female reader, SMUT (MDNI), old man Logan, fluff/smut, cute pet names (he's sweet on ya, okay??), secretly engaged, top Old Man Logan, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), fondling, Logan may be a little OOC. If I miss anything, lemme know!!

Word Count: 4.8 K

You were in your studio, the feeling was a focused quiet, up until your phone started chirping. It was an intrusion into your environment, causing you to feel annoyed. But when you saw 'Mom" on the caller ID, it prompted an automatic reach. You braced yourself, knowing that her calls were never brief, rarely uncomplicated.

"Hey, Mom", you answered, leaning back into your drafting chair, stretching out your legs. You already anticipated the familiar baring of family news and gentle interrogations about your love life.

"Darling, you finally answered! I was beginning to think you'd fallen too deep into one of your architectural rabbit holes once again", your mother's voice, bright and insistent, filled the small apartment. "Your father and I were just talking, and we just had the most marvelous idea!"

You chuckled, a weary sound. "Oh? Please, do tell."

"The family beach house! We're thinking of opening it up for a full two weeks at the end of next month", your mother had announced, the phone line practically vibrating with her enthusiasm. "The weather should be perfect, darling, and everyone's been asking to go. Hasn't been ages since we've had everyone under one roof?"

Your mind immediately wandered to the sprawling, slightly ramshackle house on the Southern California coast. The endless sound of crashing waves, the persistent scent of sea salt and sunscreen, the warm, sand-dusted floorboards underfoot. As well as the family. Lots and lots of family. Your parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, all packed in like sardines, loud conversations echoing off the vaulted ceilings. A sigh almost escaped you. Your family, while fiercely loving, was quite a lot. A very, very public lot.

"That sounds... great, Mom", you evaded, already scrolling through your demanding schedule for your current work project. "Two weeks is a long time, though. I have a really important deadline coming up, and you know how I get with too much sand in places it doesn't belong."

"Nonsense", your mother chirped, dismissing your excuses with a wave of her hand, practically hearing it on the other end of the line. "You overwork yourself, sweetheart. You need a break! Fresh air, sunshine, family... it'll do you some good. Besides", her voice dropped quietly, sounding conspiring, "Aunt Carol has been asking if you've finally found a nice, young man to bring home. She says you're not getting any younger."

Your gaze flicked over to the worn-out leather armchair in the corner of your living room, where Logan often settled when his nomadic lifestyle brought him back to you. A familiar ache settled in your chest, swiftly followed by a warmth spreading there. Your 'young man' was well over two centuries old, grizzled, dangerous, and the only one in this world who saw past your carefully constructed exterior, understanding fully the quiet, complicated corners of your soul. He was also your secret fiancé, a secret that would send your mother, a master of societal norms, into a high-pitched fit of unconsciousness. The unassuming silver band, usually hidden beneath a large, chunky ring, suddenly felt prominent on your left hand.

"Well", you began, a bit hesitant, "now that you say that, I... I have been seeing someone." The words felt strange and terrifying at the same time. You haven't breathed a single word of Logan to your family. What were you going to say? 'Mom, Dad, meet James Howlett, also known as either Logan or the Wolverine, a mutant with adamantium claws, a penchant for violence, and a past that would make your hair turn white. He happens to be the love of my life. He's also the man I secretly plan to spend eternity with.' No, that definitely wouldn't go well.

There was silence on the other end of the line before you heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a gasp. "Really, darling? Why haven't you ever said anything? Is it serious? Who is he? What's his family like? Is he tall? Does he have a good job?" The questions were shot fast, rapid-fire, your mom's voice laced with curiosity and barely contained excitement.

"It's serious", you confirmed, a small and genuine smile finally gracing your lips. "Very serious. And I was actually thinking... maybe he could come, too. You know, to the beach house. Meet everyone, ya know?" The mere idea made your heart race, a mix of fear and exhilarating anticipation. It was a gamble, but the thought of having Logan there, even under the constant threat of discovery, was suddenly irresistible. The idea of subtly merging your disparate worlds were very thrilling.

Another silent pause. Your mother, the social strategist, was clearly thinking whether or not it would be a grand idea to introduce an unknown person into the very well-planned out family vacation dynamic. "Well, I suppose that would be alright, darling! A new face! What's his name? what does he do?"

"His name's James", you said, keeping your voice even, a slight hint of amusement you hoped your mom didn't catch. "James Howlett. He's in... logistics." You almost let out a laugh at that. Logistics. That was definitely one way to describe how Logan operated. Getting himself from point A to point B, often through violent means, usually involving a lot of... logistics.

"James Howlett. James... that seems like a solid name", your mother mused, clearly performing a mental list of potential suitors she knew. "And logistics? That sounds very respectable. Well, this is wonderful news! Absolutely wonderful! We'll make sure there's enough room. You just bring him!"

"Thanks, Mom", you said, a wave of relief washing over you, immediately followed by a growing sense of exhilarating apprehension. "We'll be there."

As soon as your mother hung up, you reached fore the other phone- the burner you kept for specific, discreet contacts. You typed out a message quickly, your fingers flying over the keys:

Beach house. My family, two weeks. You're invited. Don't worry. I told them you're "in logistics".

You hit send, then waited. It was only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Then, a single, short reply:

On my way. Don't start without me.

A soft and dangerous smile spread across your face. This was going to be the most eventful, terrifying, and utterly thrilling family vacation of your life. The Wolverine was coming to the retreat.

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Two weeks had passed and the battered pick-up truck that was Logan's preferred mode of transport pulled up the long, gravel driveway of the beach house. You were already waiting on the porch, a nervous flutter deep within your stomach. The Southern California sun beat down, deceptively warm for late spring, and the air hummed with the incessant chirping of crickets and the distant crash of waves. The scent of honeysuckle from your mother's meticulously tended garden mingled with the salt spray.

He emerged from the truck, a figure of raw, untamed power that seemed utterly out of place against the backdrop of pastel-colored beach chairs and potted plants. He wore a faded denim shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal scarred forearms, and worn jeans. His hair was a chaotic mess, his face etched with a lifetime of battles, his eyes holding a weariness that belied their sharpness. He looked exactly like what he was: a man who didn't belong in a polite society, let alone a meticulous organized family vacation.

Your parents, alerted by the sound of the truck, emerged from the beach house. Your mother was already beaming, while your father was looking at Logan with vague suspicion. You took a deep breath and walked down the steps to meet him, a practiced, innocent smile on your face.

"James, you made it!" Your voice was bright, leaning in for a quick, chaste hug that was more for show than anything. But in that brief, almost imperceptible contact, your fingers brushed his side, feeling the familiar muscle beneath his shirt. A jolt of pure, anticipatory longing shot through you. His scent, uniquely his, was a grounding force amidst the swirling anxiety.

Logan grunted, a sound that could mean anything from "hello" to "I'd rather be fighting a bear". He offered a stiff nod to your parents. "Mr. and Mrs. [Your Last Name]." His eyes, though meeting theirs, seem to glance through them. Observing, calculating, a habit born of centuries of survival.

Your mother, undeterred by his gruffness, beamed. "James! It's so wonderful to meet you! [Y/N] has told us so much about you." Lies, you thought as you were trying to suppress a giggle. You have told them next to nothing about him. "Welcome to the beach house! We're just about to start dinner. Come in, come in!"

The next few days were a masterclass in covert operations. Logan, bless his stoic heart, truly tried his best. He sat through endless stories of your childhood, endured your Aunt Carol's persistent attempts to try and set him up with her bridge partner's niece, and even managed a few grunts of acknowledgement during your father's lengthy explanations of the fluctuating stock market. He ate your mother's surprisingly good clam chowder and drank your father's mediocre beer without a single comment. But his eyes, always, found yours. A quick yet possessive glance across the dinner table. A lingering look as you had passed him in the hallway. A subtle shift of his body to block you from a nosy cousin's prying questions. Each small gesture was a spark, igniting the desire that hummed beneath your skin. A constant, low-level thrum of awareness.

The real tension, though, was in the constant, almost unbearable, proximity. Every casual brushing of arms in the crowded kitchen, every shared, conspiratorial glance over a family board game, every hushed whisper in the dimly lit hallway after everyone had gone to bed- each interaction was a tiny and exquisitely painful step in the build-up. You two were physically near, yet emotionally and intimately miles apart from what y’all truly were to each other. The contrast was a torment, as well as an exquisite pleasure.

You had found yourself constantly attuned to Logan's presence, like a compass needle drawn irrevocably north. You'd catch his scent- old leather, a hint of something metallic, and the clean ocean air that now clung to him- and your skin would prickle. You'd see the slight clench of his jaw as your uncle droned on, and a protective warmth would flood you. Your secret, your love, felt like a live thing nestled between the two of you, dangerous and precious at the same time.

The beach itself offered fleeting, public moments of connection. One afternoon, while the family was scattered along the shore line, Logan had found you sitting on a driftwood log, sketching in your notebook. He settled beside you, his weight making the log shift. The warm sand molded around your bare feet.

"This is better", he murmured, his voice a low rumble, staring out at the endless expanse of the Pacific Ocean.

"Much better", you agreed, leaning your head on his shoulder just for a second, a small and reckless act of comfort. You felt the solid muscle beneath your cheek, the steady beat of his heart. It was a grounding presence for you.

He had reached down, idly shifting the sand around and through his fingers. "Your family's... persistent."

You chuckled softly, knowing that was an understatement. "You have no idea. But you're doing great. Mom thinks you're 'solid and reliable, if a little quiet'."

He snorted, a dry and amused sound. "Solid. Reliable. Right." But a flicker of something only you knew to be fondness touched his eyes as he looked at you.

"They're falling for the act", you whispered, your voice barely audible over the waves. "Which means we're almost free."

His hand, buried in the sand next to you, reached out and gently curled around your ankle, his thumb brushing over the delicate bone. The simple, hidden touch sent a jolt of fire throughout your body, a quiet promise of what the night would bring. It was a secret language, spoken in glances and hushed moments, understood by only the two of you.

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Later that evening, a heat wave settled over the coast, driving everyone indoors for a forced siesta. The air in the house grew thick and heavy, charged with the oppressive stillness of the afternoon. You were feigning sleep in the guest bedroom you and Logan shared, listening to the creaks of the old house as it settled, the distant snores of your father, along with the low murmur of the television from the living room. You knew Logan would be in the small, rarely used study at the back of the house, apparently reading a dusty old book, but truly waiting.

You soon sat up to be sitting on the edge of the bed, your heart racing a little faster than usual. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting shadows that danced across the walls. You haven't been able to stop thinking about him all day- the way his rough voice had spoken to you earlier, the way his eyes had lingered on you for a little too long. And now, here you were, waiting for him to come to you.

The door creaked open, and there he was, filling the doorway with his presence. His salt and pepper beard caught the light, and his piercing hazel eyes locked onto yours. "Darlin'", he said, his voice low and gravelly, "you're a sight for sore eyes."

You had felt a shiver go down your spine as Logan stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. His movements were deliberate, slow, as if he were savoring every second of this moment. He crossed the room in a few, long strides, his boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor. When he had reached you, he didn't say a single word. Instead, he cupped your face in his calloused hands, his thumbs lightly brushing over your cheeks.

His touch had sent sparks throughout your entire body. You leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the button-up shirt that he wore. "Logan", you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He didn't waste any time. His lips met yours in a kiss that started soft and tender, but soon deepened, fueled by the tension that had been building between you two all day and the past few days being here. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. You could feel the heat of his body, the way his breath had quickened as your tongues danced together.

When you two finally parted, both of you were breathing hard. Logan's eyes blazed with desire as he looked down at you. "Let me see you", he murmured, his hands moving to the hem of your t-shirt. You nodded, your pulse racing as he slowly lifted the shirt over your head, revealing your bare skin underneath before laying you on your back against the mattress.

His eyes darkened as they traveled over your body, taking in every curve and line. "God, you're beautiful", he said, his voice rough with emotion. His fingers had traced a path down your neck, over your collarbone, and down to your chest.

Your breasts were exposed, and you had felt a flush of warmth spread through you as his gaze lingered on them. His hands were gentle as they cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive buds until they hardened under his touch. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and you arched into him, craving more.

Logan's lips had found yours again, this time more urgent, more demanding. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as his hands continued to explore your body. When he had broke away, he trailed kisses down your neck, nipping lightly at your skin with his teeth. The sensation sent waves of pure pleasure through you, and you moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He didn't stop there. His lips moved lower, pressing kisses along your collarbone and then down your chest. When he took one of your nipples into his mouth, you gasped, your back arching off the bed. His tongue flicked the sensitive peak, teasing and tantalizing until you were trembling with need.

"Logan", you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. He looked up at you, his eyes darkened with desire, before shifting his attention to your other breast. His hands, now free, roamed lower, tracing the curve of your waist and then down to the waistband of your night shorts, and soon pulled away from your breast, causing you to let out a whine of loss at the warmth. Slowly, and deliberately, he pushed them down and slid them off your legs, along with your panties, leaving you completely exposed to him.

His fingers skimmed over your thighs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You could feel the heat of his body as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers gently parted the delicate folds between your legs, and you sucked in a sharp breath as he explored you.

"So fuckin' perfect", he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers teased your entrance, sliding through your arousal. You whimpered so softly.

"Logan... please...", your voice broke off into another shallow gasp as his fingers plunged into your pussy slowly... carefully... expertly curling them inside you as if he knew exactly where to touch. And he did. Your hips bucked almost involuntarily against him as you bit back a moan.

His other hand moved to grasp your hip, holding you steady as his fingers worked their magic inside you. "That's it, sweetheart", he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you."

You couldn't hold back anymore. Soft moans spilled from your lips as he curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. "Logan", you cried out, your hands now gripping the sheets.

He watched you intently, his eyes locked on yours as he brought you closer to the edge. But just as you were about to tip over, his movements slowed, drawing out the pleasure until you were writhing beneath him. "Not yet, darlin'", he said, his voice a low growl. "I want all of you first." He continue to play with your clit with his calloused thumb, his fingers still thrusting in and out of you at the languid pace he had set, just giving the little nub just enough pressure to make your thighs quiver.

His hazel eyes burned into your own, unwavering, as if he could see every flicker of pleasure coursing through you. The rough pads of his fingers teased you mercilessly, drawing out slow and shuddering breaths that escaped your lips in unsteady gasps.

"I want to taste you", he murmured, his voice gravelly and low, his words sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. You whimpered softly, unable to form a coherent response as his fingers continued their slow pace inside you, and the swipes across your clit. The rhythm was maddening, the way he alternated between gentle strokes and firmer pressure, keeping you teetering along the edge of an orgasm.

His free hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider as he shifted downward. The rasp of his beard against your inner thighs made you shiver, the sensation electrifying as he inched closer to where you needed him the most. When his breath fanned over your wet pussy, you arched off of the bed, a desperate moan escaping you. His tongue soon replaced his thumb, and the moment it made contact with your clit, you nearly cried out!

The sound was muffled due to you biting your lip, your back arching off of the bed as his tongue began to move in slow, deliberate circles. As he fingered you, you could feel every ridge of his knuckles as he pushed those digits deep inside you.

"Fuck", you breathed, your hips bucking instinctively, but he held you down with a firm grip, his strength unyielding. His tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony- his tongue flicked and teased your clit while his fingers thrusted in and out of you, curling just right to hit that spot to have your vision blur.

You couldn't hold your voice back anymore, the moans spilling from your lips, soft at first but growing louder as he increased the pace of his tongue and fingers. Your hands continued to fist the sheets, your head falling back against the pillows as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter within your belly.

"Logan...", you gasped, your voice breaking as his tongue flicked faster, his fingers plunging deeper. You could feel the heat building, the tension coiling unbearably tight, and then-

He slowed down once again.

"Not yet", he whispered the reminder from earlier, lifting his head just enough to meet your gaze. His lips and beard glistened with your arousal, and his eyes were dark with need. "Not done yet."

You whimpered with frustration, but he only smirked before leaning back down, his tongue replacing his fingers as they withdrew from you. He lapped at your pussy like a starved man, tasting every inch of you with a hunger that had left you trembling. His tongue had soon dipped into your entrance, probing deep before sliding back up to circle your engorged clit once again.

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of his tongue and the occasional graze of his teeth making you squirm beneath him. "Please", you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Logan, I need-"

His response to that was to slide two of his thick digits back in your pussy, curling them in time with his tongue as it continued its relentless assault on your clit. Your moans grew louder, filling the room, and you could feel the pleasure building up once again, sharper this time, more intense.

He didn't stop. His tongue flicked faster, his fingers thrusted harder, and when he added a third finger, stretching you just enough to make you gasp, you felt the world tilt on its axis.

"Logan!" You cried out, your back arching off the bed as the pleasure finally crashed over you in waves. Your pussy clenched tightly around his fingers, your entire body trembling as he continued to work you through it, his tongue gentle now as he lapped up every drop of your release.

When he finally pulled away, you were a trembling mess, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as he climbed up your body, his eyes never leaving your own. His lips met yours in a kiss that tasted of you- sweet and intoxicating- and you could feel the hardness of him pressing against your thigh.

"Now", he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need. "Your turn."

Logan had pulled away and climbed off of you for a moment, so he could strip himself. His hands moved to the waistband of his sweatpants, and with a quick, motion, he kicked off his boots and shoved them down, along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. The sight of him- tall, rugged, and fully exposed- sent a jolt of more heat straight to your core. Once he was back on the bed, his rough hands had gripped your thighs, spreading them wider as he used his other hand to position himself at your entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against your slick folds, sending a shiver up your spine.

"I'm gon' fuck you so good, darlin'", he growled, his voice low and gravelly, his lips brushing against your ear. The words had sent a huge wave of anticipation coursing through you, your body trembling with pure need.

He pressed forward, the head of his cock parting your lower lips slowly, deliberately. You gasped as he filled you inch by inch, the stretch exquisite and overwhelming, like the many times before. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity in his gaze making your heart pound within your chest. You could feel every ridge, every vein as he pushed deeper, your pussy clenching around him as if to pull him in further.

"God... you're so tight", he groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he bottomed out. The sensation of being so completely filled was almost too much, and you arched into him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He pulled back almost all the way, leaving just the tip inside, the friction sending sparks throughout your body, before thrusting back in with a slow and deliberate roll of his hips. The feeling was maddening, each movement drawing out the pleasure until you were panting, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Logan... please", you whimpered, your trembling with need. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he began to move, his hips setting a steady rhythm.

His hands slid up your body, one tangling in your hair as the other cupped your breast, his rough thumb brushing over your nipple. The dual sensation of his cock filling you and his hands on your skin was overwhelming, and your fingers now digging into his back. He broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, nipping your skin before soothing it with his tongue. The gentle biting sent a thrill through you, and you tilted your head to the side so he could have better access. His teeth soon grazed your collarbone, and you gasped, your hips bucking against his.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful like this", Logan murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. His hips soon picked up speed, driving into you with more force now, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside you that made your eyes cross.

"Logan... I'm so close", you breathed, your voice breaking as the pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit that spot with every thrust, the sensation sending you spiraling.

"Look at me", he commanded, his voice firm but tender. You forced your eyes open. locking onto his. The intensity of his gaze was almost too much, but you couldn't look away. His hand moved between your bodies, his calloused thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles as he thrusted hard into you.

The combination was too much. Your body tensed, your pussy clenched around him as the pleasure exploded through you in waves. You cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continued to move, drawing out your climax until you were trembling beneath him.

"That's it, sweetheart... let it go." His voice was a low growl in your ear as he watched you come undone, his hips never stopping. When the last wave had passed, he kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours as he began to move faster, chasing his own release.

His breathing grew ragged. his thrusts becoming harder, more desperate. "Fuck... I'm close...", he groaned against your lips. You tightened around him instinctively, and with a low growl, he buried himself deep, his cock pulsing as he came inside you.

He collapsed onto you for a moment, his weight pressing you into the mattress before he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him. His hand trailed down your back, his touch gentle now as he held you close.

"How's that for a turn", he murmured, his voice still rough, but softer now. You could feel the warmth of his release inside you as you lay there, tangled together in the aftermath. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hazel eyes searching yours. "Good?"

You nodded your head, still catching your breath. "More than good", you whispered, your voice barely audible. He smiled- a rare, genuine smile- and leaned in to kiss you again, slow and tender this time.

"You're incredible", he said softly against your lips. His hand slid up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. The tenderness in his touch made your heart swell, and you leaned into him; feeling completely satisfied and safe as well.

"Thank you for coming with me. Coming here", you whispered, your voice still hoarse from you crying out in pleasure moments before. you looked up adoringly at him, your eyes filled with so much emotions.

Logan's hand trailed down your spine once more, settling on the curve of you hip as he pulled you closer against his body. The heat of his body pressed against your own was comforting, grounding. His lips found yours again, this time slower and more deliberate.

"Don' thank me, sweetheart. We've both been needin' this for a long time now."

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! I went a little crazy with it, but I hope it was what you were wanting!

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