Caroll

He’d even hate just thinking about it. 

But now that years have gone by and he’s almost hitting 200 years of age–a lot has changed in how he sees things, alright. Suddenly he’s not that idealistic-insufferable-annoying fuck anymore.

The heavy feels of his own body, his poor visions, his utter tiredness and wounds are slowly tended by settling down with you. Living in a small countryside home just outside Texas is the life Logan needed all along.

So he just can’t fucking help it when he sees how you act with those children at the Barbeque party. How you treat them with such care as if they’re yours. 

The smile plastered on your face after you give each one of them a cookie is Heaven sent for Logan. He’s too focused on being mesmerized by your acts that he almost does not realize how his trousers feel tighter.

He quickly hides his bulge whilst embarrassed of himself, thinking ‘M fuckin’ old for this shit. But who gives a fuck anyway? 

Oh, he in the past would not approve of this at all. 

“Fuck. You’d look so fuckin’ good with y’r belly swollen with my child.” Logan grunts out, thrusting his girth into you as his mind fills up with visions of you carrying his child. 

The images themselves make Logan go feral—growling when he feels how your velvet walls manage to clench around him.

“A-ah! Please!” The high-pitched noise you let out is almost humiliating as you bounce yourself on top of your husband, making the head hit your gummy spot every time you fall down.

“Hm? Y’want that, Little Missy? Want me t’give you a baby?” His calloused fingers rub shapes on your sticky skin, guiding your hips as he tries to search for the answer in your eyes.

You reply with a frantic nod, your mind feels empty as his tip deliciously kisses your cervix. The thought of being full of his seed, pregnant and giving him a baby—makes your eyes roll back in pleasure.

With one movement, Logan manages to manhandle you to a new position, his cock never slips out from your heat, “Want this old man t’give you one? Make you a momma?” 

The sound of his full balls slapping against your ass makes you squeeze your eyes shut. 

Now clearly hearing the obscene moans emitting through the dim room, “Yeahyeahyea—W-wanna be a momma—”

While you wonder how he still has this much stamina at that age, Logan leans down to your ear and buries his face on your neck, “Pretty wife. Gonna make the cutest goddamn babies, y’know tha’?” 

His palms hold your thighs spread open to reach deeper inside you, “Let me fill ya’ up real good.”

Logan’s eyes flicker to watch your pussy swallow his cock in and out. The sight alone makes him throw his head and let guilt wash him over for a minute.

He feels perverted—corrupting you by plugging his cock to the hilt as if it is trying to mold your insides. A dilemma growing.

You could feel how his thrusts steadily became desperate, “L-Lo.” Whining out, your fingers crawl into his back to pull him tighter. 

He can’t fucking wait to have you round up. Shit. You’d be so dependent on him—need him at all times. And he’d fulfill everything you ask him to do. Logan would never even let you move an inch. 

Everything caught up to him as an acute wave, “F-Fuck. There ya’ go, baby.” Logan mutters - his hands shake slightly as they lose their grip on your thighs. 

His cock never pulling out, “D’ya think it takes, pretty?” You could feel him deep inside you—how your walls are painted by his thick ropes of cum. 

Logan gives lazy circles of his hips before pressing a sweet kiss on your lips, whispering several ‘I love you’s’ before lowering himself so his face could level with your pussy.  

“Fuck.” The older man has never seen a far more beautiful sight than this. Watching his cum begin to leak out of you makes his cock twitches again. 

The scruffy feel of his beard scratches your inner thighs as he leans closer—dragging the tips of his fingers along your folds before plugging his digits back inside. 

“Logan-n!” 

it wasn't fair, how he could tell as soon as he entered a room just how much you wanted him. he could smell it, smell your arousal clear as day, he'd teased you about it so many times. the scent fills his mind every time, makes his cock twitch in his boxers, the need to have you almost overwhelming.

your soft wanting moans drift to his ears, one of his palms sliding up to the base of your spine as he keeps you firmly bent over on the bed, fucking into you with purpose. rough grunting spills from his lips, your head turning to catch his eye, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead. chest rising and falling, logan grits his teeth.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he grunts, his sentence punctuated with a particularly harsh thrust that knocks the wind from both of you, "you wanted my cock? hm? just couldn't fuckin' help but tease and tease. . ."

you whine, gripping the sheets in front of you as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. he always liked it rough, plus - you'd known logan long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. and he was fucking good at it. you'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

his thrusts falter, and you reach back to take his wrist in your hand in a comforting gesture. the harsh panting tells you all you need to know, his grip on you fading. but it's alright, you know how to take care of him, too. you tug at his wrist and after a brief moment of hesitation, he pulls out and lays beside you, looking almost defeated.

your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him, slowly grinding back and forth on his length. his hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his scarred, sweaty bare chest rising and falling harshly.

"let me take care of you. . ." you whisper, your hands sliding up across the feverish skin on his chest, threading through the hair that grows there.

he licks his lips, attempting to protest "but i-"

"shhhh. . ." you shake your head, inching upwards to brush his leaking tip against your entrance and he hisses at the contact, "i said let me take care of you. . ."

you sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you once more - at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. you love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

"fuck. . ." he huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. he hates it, hates how fucking tired he gets nowadays. but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

and you want to comfort him, to let him know that it's okay. you'd ride him every night if he'd let you, but he always insists that he can do it, that he can still go as hard and as fast as he used to all those years ago. fast or slow, it didn't bother you, as long as you had logan, you'd be happy, content with even a passing glance from him in your direction.

"look so pretty up there. . ." he coos breathlessly, watching you bounce, his hand snaking up to rest on your stomach as he admires you.

you moan, tilting your head back - and he groans in response, dick twitching desperately, aching to fill you as his hips buck against your movements. he loves watching you ride him like this, watching as you take control, set the pace you want.

the rough hand on your stomach drifts upwards, finding its home around your neck, gently still. but even the soft grip has you reeling, gripping his wrist. you know he still wants to feel some control, that it wasn't because he was losing energy that he was on his back, no. . . it was a choice.

and you indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. he's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

"logan, look at me. . ." you whisper pleadingly, nails digging into his chest, fingertips tracing across the scars there.

immediately his eyes open to lock onto yours, and when he sees you? fuck, he needs more. he uses his grip on your throat to pull you down into a deep kiss, breathing heavily through his nose as his tongue delves into your mouth. you love how much more experienced he is than you, how he makes quick work of you every fucking time, has you a mess for him, opening up to him in every way you can.

"yeah. . . that's it. . ." he grumbles against your lips, kissing you with a fierce passion that borders on animalistic between words, "keep workin' that cock, keep bouncin', you're doin' so well."

you clench around him at those very words, unable to even think straight with his tongue shoved into your mouth and his cock stuffed deep inside you. he's taking you in every way you'll give yourself to him. even with him on his back and with half his energy he's still able to have you squirming.

and the praise, the fucking praise. logan knows just how to talk to you to make you melt. he'll fuck you roughly, desperately pumping his dick into you whilst whispering that you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen into your ear. he'll have you split in half with his thick arms hooked around your legs whilst telling you that you're so good for him, calling you sweet pet names that contrast his rough movements.

that voice of his, gravely, deep, rumbling. you can't think straight when he talks to you this way.

"such a sweet little thing," he groans, his hand on your thigh snaking around to give your ass a quick slap before grabbing a handful. light work for him considering the size of his hands - don't even get him started on what he likes to do with those. . .

you call his name, whimpering against his lips as you try to keep up with his kisses all while riding him. your mind is blank, slamming your hips down against him as he bucks up, meeting your thrusts - sending him deeper and deeper.

his hand on your neck traces along your skin to grip the back of your head, feeling as his digits spread across your scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans, "can feel how tight you are, you're gonna cum, huh?" logan asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement. he knows your body better than you do.

you nod, whimpering pathetically, inches from his lips.

eyes darting from your mouth, up into your gaze, he grins, "use your words, c'mon. i asked you a question."

"yes logan, yes, fuck- i'm gonna cum!" you cry out, tilting your hips as you chase that high he wants to give you.

with his mouth open, he pants, watching you above him with a keen fascination as your face contorts in pleasure. slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. his favourite thing in the world is to watch you come undone around him, the way your eyes roll back, your pulse quickening under his fingertips.

"c'mon, c'mon, c'mon. . ." he growls, rutting into you from below, feeling as you spasm around his hard, girthy length, "if you cum, i'll cum nice and deep inside you, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"logan. . ." you whine, a clear yes. your head dips down to press against his shoulder, unable to keep yourself upright with the intensity of it all.

he chuckles and it's like music to your ears, loving those rare little noises of his - treasuring the sounds he makes while enjoying you.

both hands are back on your hips now, guiding you, slamming you down onto him as you gasp with each thrust, "c'mon. . . give me what i want, what we both want - make a mess for me."

his words hit you like a command, a call to arms - you will cum for him, make a mess of him and his sheets. you're calling his name into the skin of his neck as you cry out, feeling the orgasm beginning to tear through you.

and he can feel it, feel how you convulse and clamp down on his dick, causing him to gasp. he's moaning, groaning, words catching at the back of his throat as he tries to continue to talk you through it - but he can't. you're fucking him too good, he's gonna cum too.

ropes and ropes of white hot cum fill you, pushed deeper and deeper by his faltering thrusts as his dick twitches with each spray. you gasp, writhing against him as he holds you firmly in place, pulling you down one last time and holding you there as he empties into you completely.

you're whimpering, whining, body jerking as the intensity increases as you roll your hips, riding out the last of your orgasm until you're both left a panting, sweaty mess.

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers into the air, closing his eyes to centre himself, world spinning.

meanwhile, you can't even talk, can't even think about forming words, mind instead occupied with feeling his hot cum dripping out of you.

logan pets the back of your head, stroking your hair gently in an attempt to help you come back into the moment. he wants to thank you, but that's never been his strong suit. instead, he kisses the crown of your head, peppering kisses down along your forehead as he hooks his thumb and forefinger under your chin to bring your face closer to his.

he looks into your hazy, exhausted eyes, his own gaze full of love and appreciation. this is what he lives for - watching you bathe in the afterglow, being lucky enough to look into your eyes every day, being blessed enough to have you here like this.

you greet him with a sleepy, almost bashful smile.

he smiles too, and god, butterflies blossom deep within your stomach. you love him, you love him tired, you love him angry, you love him grumpy, you love him on his back, on top - whatever, you just love him.

"you're too good for me," he whispers as his lips find your forehead once more.

you know those words are his way of saying thanks, but you shake your head in protest, "stop that, not another word."

logan looks into your eyes, really looks at you, those soft hazel hues meeting your gaze. he simply smiles in silence as his hand drifts to your cheek.

the room falls into a comfortable silence, and you wonder how logan ever let you this close. but you don't care, all you care about is taking care of him.

the last hour has been torturous and logan won't let up. between teasing circles around your button to intense fingering, he's managed to ruin every orgasm that's approached.

"p-please, lo." you whine, struggling to lay still for him. "i haven't even been bad."

it was true. logan's outburst came out of nowhere. one minute the two of you are laying in bed relaxing, then the next he's holding your legs near your head and ripping off your panties.

"look at her twitching for me, princess." he coos, blowing air on your clit. "so pretty."

"lo, i need your–" your words got cut off by the intrusion of logan's middle and ring fingers inserting themselves inside of you. stretching your tight hole in one quick motion.

"shhh..." he whispers, crawling back up your body until his lips are inches away from yours. "that's what you needed, right?"

dumbly, you nod your head. logan didn't mind the way that your nails dig into his wrists as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. tenderly, logan places kisses on your cheek, jaw, and lips.

an overwhelming feeling fluttered in your stomach, a knot coming undone. you paw at his wrist, squeezing him in more than one way. back arched off the mattress just enough to whine against his lips.

"please, please, i'm s-so close."

suddenly, logan pulls his fingers out and roughly spanks your clit. hips twitching ever so slightly, chasing his touch.

a small tear rolls down your red flushed cheek, one that he is quick to kiss away.

Stirring away from the depth of your dreams, you feel…full. So full of cock in your tight heat. You’d recognize that massive dick and big hands anywhere. One of your legs was being held up by Logan’s hand as he fucked you from the side. You turn your head, your voice groggy and tired. “Logan what the fuck…”

His free hand quickly covered your mouth, giving your neck gentle kisses. “Shhh…I’m sorry…I need this, love.” He grunted in your ear as he sped up the pace of his thrusts. You were so tired that you fell right back on the pillow. Half asleep and half present. How could you sleep with something sooo big filling your needy hole.

The more he hit your g-spot the more you creamed. Gentle moans and tired whimpers created a melody with his rough grunts and groans. His kisses were so gentle, trailing from your neck, to your jaw, to your cheek and back to the neck. “Such a pretty whore. Letting me use you like this. Bet you were already dreaming of my cock cause you were dripping wet.” His degrading words were said in such a sweet tone.

You just nodded and moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder. Big, veiny hand trailed from your mouth down to your clit, rubbing it with two fingers in gentle circles. Constant hitting of your g spot and playing with your clit made you cum immediately. A loud moan escaping your lips, body shuddering and shaking with pleasure.

“You look so pretty when you cum…” he whispered. And soon enough, he felt his own orgasm approaching. His core tightening as he emptied his full balls into you. Warm sticky roped of his cum fills you. He didn’t even bother pulling out. He’d get you pregnant if he wanted to. Pulling out, he gave your ass a gentle slap then pulled you close so you two could fall asleep again.

———

“You think I care about that?” he’d growl, his voice low as he came up behind you. His big hands found your breasts again, squeezing gently, lifting them up like they were made for his touch. “These are perfect,” he whispered into your ear, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

When you first started dating Logan, he was hesitant to let you spend the night with him, concerned he’d hurt you if he had a nightmare.

But after a few months you finally coaxed him into letting you stay the night in his bed. At one point, Logan had traveled down your body, falling asleep with his head on your plush stomach, arm around your hips, perfectly fitting in your hip dip like it was an indention made just for him.

The first time he did that you got anxious, insecurities screaming at you to get him off your stomach; you weren’t exactly skinny.

You ran your hand through his hair and lightly traced your fingernails across his stubbled jaw, waking him up slowly. Logan stirred, his arm tightening instinctively around your hips before his eyes opened.

“Mmm… What’re you doin’?” His voice was rough, gravelly from sleep, and the warmth of his breath tickled your skin as he nestled his face further into your stomach.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whispered, feeling your nerves spike again. “Just…you were sleeping on my stomach.”

He lifted his head slightly, blinking as if he was processing what you just said. “Yeah, so?”

You felt your face flush as you glanced away, biting your lip. “It’s not exactly the best spot…”

Logan didn’t move at first. He stayed still, eyes narrowing as he propped himself up on his elbow to look at you. His free hand came to rest on your side, fingers tracing gentle circles over your skin. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he said, voice low but edged with that familiar protective tone.

You couldn’t help the self-conscious laugh that slipped out. “It’s just… I’m not—” you gestured vaguely to your body, “—y’know, toned.”

His eyes darkened, and before you could even finish your thought, Logan was already shifting. In one smooth motion, he had rolled over so that he was hovering above you, his body caging yours in. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I don’t give a damn about that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his lips pressed against your neck, cutting off any argument you might have had. His hands roamed down your sides, fingers digging into your soft flesh as if trying to ground you in the moment. “You think I’m here ‘cause of how you look? Princess, I’m here ‘cause I want all of you.” He kissed the hollow of your throat, his breath hot against your skin, leaving you shivering beneath him.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, dragging his mouth lower until he was back where he’d been—his face resting comfortably on your stomach. He kissed it again, lingering this time, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “This? All of this? It’s mine. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan’s arm looped around your hips again, pulling you closer, fitting his body against yours like a puzzle piece. His head stayed on your stomach, refusing to budge as his fingers traced lazy patterns along your hip. His eyes closed, settling back into the comfort of being close to you.

He also loved your thighs, didn’t really realize it until he saw you wear leggings and sat down next to him, the fat expanding.

Ever since then, if you sat close to him, a hand was always on your thigh. When he was driving, he’d rest his hand there, giving you little squeezes that made your heart race. It wasn’t just about claiming you, though; it was his way of reminding you that he was there, that you were his, and he liked being close to you.

In a mission briefing? His hand would still find its way to your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing slow shapes on top, sometimes dipping toward the inner thigh before lazily drifting back up. It was comforting in a way, grounding. Though, every now and then, his touch made it hard to focus on anything else.

You couldn’t help but smirk when the others in the room would glance your way, probably noticing Logan’s subtle touch. It wasn’t like he cared. If anything, his hand would tighten just a little more, like he was daring anyone to say something.

And when you did go on missions with the team, your least favorite part was wearing the skin-tight suit. To you, it showed all your imperfections—your stomach, hip dip, all of it. You’d catch yourself adjusting, pulling at the fabric, trying to smooth it out, even though it never really made a difference. The insecurities always crept up, especially when you stood next to the other team members who looked effortlessly put-together in their uniforms.

Logan, of course, noticed. He always noticed.

“Quit fidgeting,” he’d mutter under his breath, standing next to you while pretending to focus on the mission briefing. His voice was gruff, but there was no mistaking the warmth in it.

You shot him a look, but before you could say anything, his hand slipped to your lower back, rubbing small, reassuring circles. “You look good,” he added, quieter this time, leaning in just enough so only you could hear him. “Always do.”

Despite yourself, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. Logan wasn’t one for sweet words or grand gestures, but the way he’d casually dismiss your worries—like they were so far off his radar they didn’t even register—made you feel better, even if you didn’t always believe him.

During the mission, you tried to focus, keeping your mind on the task at hand. But as usual, Logan had a way of being both protective and possessive without making a big show of it. He stayed close, not in an obvious way, but in that steady, grounding way that only he could. And whenever there was a moment of downtime, you’d catch him glancing your way, eyes lingering just long enough to make you flush.

When the mission finally wrapped, the team was debriefing back at the jet. You were exhausted, mentally drained from the whole ordeal, and your suit felt even tighter after hours of wear. Logan sat across from you, legs spread wide, looking relaxed as ever despite the chaos you had just gone through. He caught your eye and raised an eyebrow, giving you that familiar smirk that always made your heart race.

“C’mere,” he grunted, jerking his head toward him.

You hesitated for a second, glancing around at the rest of the team. But Logan wasn’t asking. He was telling. With a quiet sigh, you got up and made your way over, settling in next to him on the bench seat. His arm immediately looped around your waist, pulling you in close, his fingers finding their usual spot on your thigh.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned into you, lips brushing against the side of your head.

You nodded, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away under his touch. His thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles on your thigh, grounding you in a way only he could. It was like he had this unspoken understanding of your insecurities and made it his mission to quietly push them aside.

As the jet hummed beneath you, the team carried on with the debriefing, but you weren’t really paying attention anymore. All you could focus on was Logan—his steady presence, his touch, and the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could start to see yourself the way he did.

“Stop worrying about that damn suit,” he muttered in your ear, giving your thigh one last squeeze. “You’re perfect, and you know it.”

And you were; he loved how your thighs would squeeze his head when he licked and sucked at your pussy, his growl reverberating through your core. His rough, calloused hands gripped your hips, holding you still as his tongue explored every inch of you, teasing and relentless. The way you clenched around him only spurred him on, his mouth working faster, hungrier, until you were gasping, trembling above him.

"Fuck, you're so good," he muttered between kisses, his voice thick with lust, lips shiny with your slick. He loved how your soft thighs would wrap around him, trapping him there like you didn’t want him to stop—like you couldn't bear to lose the feeling of his mouth against you. And he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

His stubble scraped deliciously against your sensitive skin, and every time you tried to pull away, overwhelmed by the pleasure, he'd pull you back down onto his face with a growl. His strong grip on your hips kept you right where he wanted you, forcing you to ride his tongue until you couldn’t think of anything but the heat building between your legs.

The way his tongue curled inside you, his lips closing around your clit—god, it was too much. Every brush of his fingers against your thighs, every growl that left his throat, sent you spiraling further into bliss. Your hands fisted in his hair, hips grinding down on his face as he devoured you like a man starved, never once giving you a moment to catch your breath.

When your thighs finally tensed around him, squeezing his head as you came undone, Logan didn’t relent. He lapped at you through your orgasm, groaning into your heat as your entire body trembled with release. Only when you were spent, legs shaking and breath coming in shallow pants, did he pull away, his lips curling into that familiar, cocky smirk as he looked up at you.

It had even taken Logan a while to coax you into sitting on his face—you had protested every time, saying you were ‘too heavy,’ worried you'd crush him. Logan's eyes would narrow at you, his rough voice grumbling through clenched teeth, "You think you’re gonna hurt me? Come on, sweetheart, I can handle a lot more than that."

When he finally got you to do it, his grip was like iron, pulling you down onto his mouth, forcing you to feel just how strong he was. His hands dug into your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, holding you there with a possessive firmness. "I want to taste you," he growled, his voice muffled between your legs, breath hot against your core. "Let go, darlin'. I’ve got you."

The first time, you were still hesitant, barely lowering yourself, but Logan wasn’t having it. His hands clamped down tighter, dragging you down until you were fully seated on his face, your thighs trembling around him. He groaned against your slick heat, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure through you. His tongue worked relentlessly, tracing every sensitive spot, teasing your clit, then plunging deep inside you. Your hands gripped the headboard, knuckles white, unsure if you could take the intensity, but Logan wasn’t letting up.

"Fuckin’ perfect," he groaned, his stubble scraping your inner thighs as he licked and sucked, savoring every drop of you like a man starved. Each time you tried to lift yourself off him, overwhelmed, his grip would tighten, yanking you back down, forcing you to ride his tongue, grinding against his face.

"Logan, I—" You barely managed to get the words out before a sharp gasp cut you off. He growled, pulling you even closer, his fingers digging into your flesh possessively. His tongue flicked against your clit, relentless, sending you spiraling into a state of pure, blinding pleasure.

And the way he’d groan when you finally gave in—fuck, it was like he got off on making you lose control. His arms around your thighs, his mouth working tirelessly, you couldn’t help but come undone, thighs shaking around his head, moans filling the air as waves of pleasure crashed through you. He loved how you’d buck against his mouth, grinding harder as you chased that last bit of ecstasy, his hands never letting go, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

He even noticed how you preferred laying on your back when he fucked you, not that he was complaining, he loved watching your tits bounce with every thrust. It wasn’t until you were on his lap one day, kissing each other fervently as his hand gripped the bottom of your shirt to pull up that you froze.

Logan noticed the hesitation in your body language as you froze in his lap. His hands, always eager to touch, had found the hem of your shirt, lifting it as his lips devoured yours. But the moment the fabric started to rise, you stiffened, that familiar wave of insecurity hitting you. Sitting up like this, your stomach pressing against his abs, always made you more aware of the softness there, the way it rolled when you moved.

His brow furrowed, sensing the change in your energy, but instead of pulling away, Logan held you tighter, his grip possessive yet gentle. "What’s goin' on in that head of yours?" His voice was rough, gravelly with desire, but softened by concern as his hands stilled on your waist, just under your shirt, fingertips brushing against bare skin.

You glanced away, biting your lip. “I just... you know,” you mumbled, trying to pull your shirt back down, embarrassed by how exposed you felt in this position. “I don’t look good like this.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, his usual gruff demeanor taking on a more protective edge. He shook his head slightly, gripping the fabric tighter, refusing to let you cover yourself. “Stop that,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Logan wasn’t having it. In one swift motion, he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside before you could even react. His hands immediately returned to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh as if he couldn’t get enough of touching you. "Every inch of you," he muttered, his breath hot against your skin, lips trailing along your collarbone, "is perfect."

Your stomach knotted with nerves, but Logan didn’t give you time to overthink. His hands slid down your sides, thumbs brushing over your belly, not shying away from the parts of you that made you hesitate. "Feel that?" he whispered, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just above your chest. "That's mine."

You could feel the heat building between your legs, your body betraying your anxieties as his touch ignited a fire in you. You shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure, but Logan's grip tightened, keeping you firmly in place on his lap. "Don’t move, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as his hands roamed lower, thumbs tracing the dip of your hips. "I want you just like this."

His lips found yours again, more demanding this time, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands guided you to rock against him. You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing up through his jeans, and it sent a jolt of heat straight through you.

“Feel that, princess?” His voice was low, almost a rumble against your lips. “That’s all for you.”

You could barely think, your body moving instinctively, grinding against him, the rough fabric of his jeans only adding to the delicious friction.

Logan’s hands were everywhere—greedy, possessive, tracing the curve of your waist, the softness of your stomach, the roundness of your hips. He lifted you slightly, positioning you just right so your clit pressed perfectly against the bulge in his jeans, and you gasped, hips bucking against him. His answering growl was primal, his fingers digging in harder, encouraging the movement, guiding you as you rode him.

“You like that?” he rasped, his breath hot against your neck as his lips found the pulse point there, nipping at your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

All you could do was moan in response, your head tilting back as his mouth explored the curve of your throat, down to your collarbone.

Logan’s eyes darkened as he stared down at you, your breasts exposed, nipples hard under his gaze. He groaned, leaning forward to capture one in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak while his free hand kneaded the other, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp. The feel of his mouth on you, combined with the pressure between your legs, was too much. You could feel the heat building, the tension coiling in your belly.

“Lo,” you whimpered, your hands threading through his hair, tugging slightly as your hips moved faster, seeking more friction, more of him.

His grip tightened on your hips, his mouth releasing your nipple with a wet pop as he looked up at you, eyes wild with lust. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” His voice was a rough whisper, dripping with need. He rocked his hips up against you, grinding into your heat.

You nodded frantically, the pleasure building, pushing you closer to the edge with every roll of your hips. Logan’s hands moved to your ass, pulling you down harder against him as his teeth grazed your neck, his growl vibrating through your skin. The combination of his rough hands, the feel of him beneath you, and the sound of his voice was enough to send you spiraling into oblivion.

“Fuck, Logan!” Your body shook as you came, thighs trembling, head falling back as the orgasm ripped through you, your core pulsing around nothing, desperate for more.

Logan didn’t stop. He held you through it, grinding against you, prolonging the pleasure until you were a trembling mess in his arms. Then, with a wicked smirk, he lifted you off his lap, setting you down on the bed with surprising gentleness.

He had even come to realize that you didn’t necessarily like it when he fucked you from behind, making the same complaints about your stomach, and even the stretchmarks littered on your back.

But every time you brought it up, he'd just shake his head, muttering something like, “damn, woman,” under his breath, like he couldn’t fathom why you were so hung up on those things. He didn't see what you saw. Hell, he loved what he saw, and he made sure to remind you every damn time.

You were on all fours the first time you brought it up, hands gripping the sheets as he pressed against you from behind, his rough hands holding your hips firmly. “I don’t know, Logan,” you had mumbled, face burning with embarrassment, fingers twitching nervously. You knew he could feel it—the way your body stiffened, the hesitation creeping in.

Logan froze, hands tightening slightly on your hips, his body pressed flush against your ass. “What’s goin' through your head this time?” His voice was that low, gravelly growl you loved so much, but there was an edge to it this time. Protective. Frustrated. Hungry.

You shifted awkwardly, biting your lip. “It’s just... I don’t really like being in this position. You can see everything. My stomach, the stretch marks on my back, it’s not exactly—”

Before you could finish, Logan growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you back against him, his cock pressing even harder against your ass. “You think I give a damn about stretch marks?” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You think that shit matters to me? Princess, look at me.” He reached around, his hand wrapping around your throat, pulling your head back just enough so you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheek.

“Fuckin' look at me,” he repeated, and you could feel the demand in his voice, the raw, unfiltered desire. Slowly, you turned your head, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

His eyes were burning, pupils blown wide with lust. “You’re fuckin' perfect,” he growled, lips brushing your ear as his free hand slid down your stomach, fingers tracing over the softness there, the skin you were so insecure about, also littered with stretchmarks. “You see this? I love this. Every. Fucking. Inch.”

Logan’s hand moved lower, the possessiveness in his grip undeniable, brushing over your hips and pulling you back toward him. His body pressed against yours with a primal intensity, his cock hard against your ass, radiating heat. His breath, hot and ragged, teased your skin as his hand continued its exploration, fingers slipping between your thighs, spreading your legs apart slightly.

You shivered, caught between your own insecurities and the overwhelming desire coursing through you. The rawness in his voice, the way he handled your body like it was something sacred to him, pushed aside all the doubts clouding your mind.

His lips grazed your neck, voice a low rasp against your skin. “I wanna hear you say it,” he muttered, the roughness of his stubble scraping deliciously over the sensitive skin just below your ear. “Tell me you believe me. Tell me you know how goddamn beautiful you are.” His hand slid up, cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple, pulling a soft gasp from your lips.

Your breath hitched, the heat between your legs building with every stroke of his thumb, the way his touch ignited your skin. You were still pinned against him, his chest pressed tight to your back, his cock hard and insistent, nudging between your thighs, demanding attention.

“I—” The words caught in your throat as his hand slid lower, fingers brushing over your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. A gasp slipped out, your hips bucking instinctively into his hand.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he muttered, his mouth now trailing down to your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, teasing. “I need to hear it.” His other hand gripped your hip, holding you still, refusing to let you escape the overwhelming sensation building between your legs.

You could feel the weight of him behind you, the solid heat of his body practically burning into yours. He knew exactly what he was doing—pushing you right to the edge, but making you work for it.

“I know,” you finally gasped, voice shaky as his fingers circled your clit with just the right amount of pressure. “I’m perfect.” The words felt foreign on your tongue, but the way Logan growled in approval made it worth it.

“Damn right you are,” he muttered, his lips curving into that familiar cocky smirk against your skin. Without warning, he thrust his hips forward, the hard length of him sliding between your slick folds, not entering you, just teasing—enough to make your breath catch, your body aching for more.

Your back arched, pressing against him, every inch of your skin on fire, needing him. But Logan didn’t give in just yet. His hand stayed between your legs, fingers moving faster, slick with your arousal, while his cock slid against you, the friction almost too much to bear.

“Logan, please,” you whimpered, the desperation in your voice undeniable now. You needed him inside you, needed the stretch, the way he’d fill you completely, the way he always did.

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing your ear. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, finally positioning himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. “You ready for me?”

You could barely manage a nod before he gently pushed you back down onto the bed, your face buried in the sheets.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, firm but careful as he pulled you back against him. The bed creaked beneath you, but all you could focus on was the feel of his skin, warm and hard against yours. You were laid out, face down, ass in the air, and Logan’s body towering over you, radiating heat and raw desire. His breath ghosted across your back as he adjusted your position, pulling your hips up just a bit more, making sure you were where he wanted you.

“Fuck, you look good like this,” he growled, his rough hands trailing over the curve of your ass before he kneaded the soft flesh. A sharp smack followed, the sting spreading heat through your skin, making you gasp. He did it again, his hand coming down harder this time, leaving a mark that he admired with a low rumble of approval.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” His voice was deep, that gravelly tone laced with hunger. Without waiting for an answer, his hand slid down between your thighs, fingers brushing over your wetness, teasing you. “You’re already soaked, darlin’,” he murmured, pushing two fingers inside, making you moan into the sheets. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You could feel the heat of his cock pressed against the back of your thigh as he moved, the thick length of it brushing your skin, making your breath hitch. His hand disappeared for a moment, and then he slapped your thigh hard, the sound echoing in the room. “You like that, huh?” He growled again, the rasp in his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You want more?”

“Yes,” you gasped, pushing back against him, needing to feel him inside you.

Logan chuckled, low and dark, gripping your ass tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he lined himself up with your entrance. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper as he pushed forward, the head of his cock stretching you slowly, inch by inch. You moaned, back arching as he filled you completely, the stretch almost too much, but it felt so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Logan groaned, his hands still gripping your hips as he pulled back slightly, then thrust in again, harder this time, making you cry out. “You take me so well, sweetheart.” His pace was slow at first, each thrust deliberate, his cock dragging against your walls, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl.

He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his skin searing into you. “You’re perfect,” he muttered against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Every inch of you.” His hand slid up to your throat, fingers wrapping around it gently, not squeezing, just holding you there, grounding you.

Logan's hips snapped against yours with more force now, driving you closer to the edge with every thrust. Your fingers fisted in the sheets, body trembling as his pace quickened, each stroke deeper, rougher, sending you spiraling toward your release. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you so good you thought you might come undone right there.

“Logan, I—” Your voice broke off as his hand slid down between your thighs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing you closer, so fucking close.

“C’mon, darlin',” he rasped, his voice thick with lust, hips moving faster, harder, his cock slamming into you with a relentless rhythm. “Let go for me.”

And you did. The orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body shaking, thighs quivering as you came around him, a broken moan spilling from your lips. Logan groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, chasing his own release. His hips snapped against you one last time, deep and hard, before he came with a low, guttural growl, spilling inside you.

He stayed there for a moment, buried deep, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Then, slowly, he pulled out, collapsing next to you on the bed, his arm looping around your waist to pull you close. "Fuckin’ perfect," he muttered again, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck as the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsed through you.

It wasn’t a quick change for you, not like a switch you could flip and suddenly everything was better. But eventually you became more comfortable in your own skin, wearing clothing you always thought was cute but never had the guts to buy because you thought you were ‘too fat’ for it.

It started with a simple corset crop top during the summer, paired with high-waisted skinny jeans. You had stood in front of the mirror for a good ten minutes, turning this way and that, trying to decide if you could actually leave the house like this. The top hugged your waist, showing off just a sliver of skin above the waistband of your jeans, and for the first time, you didn’t completely hate how you looked.

Sure, you were still a little conscious about your stomach—there was nothing hiding the pooch like your oversized shirts did—but you also didn’t take it off. You took a deep breath, staring at your reflection for what felt like forever. The crop top was cute, the jeans fit snug, and you didn’t look as bad as you thought you would.

“Look at you,” Logan’s gruff voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t even heard him walk into the room, but there he was, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a smirk.

Your instinct was to cover up, to fold your arms over your midsection, but Logan was faster. He crossed the room in a few long strides, his hands finding your waist, pulling you close before you had a chance to second-guess yourself. His eyes roamed your body, taking in the outfit, and the way his gaze lingered made your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.

“You wearin’ this out?” he asked, his voice low as his fingers trailed along the bare skin just above your waistband.

You swallowed, nodding, suddenly feeling a little shy under his intense stare. “Yeah... I thought I’d try something different.”

Logan’s smirk widened, one of his hands sliding up your back, fingers brushing over your spine. “Good. You look fuckin’ incredible, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice gruff, full of that rough affection he never hesitated to show you. “Shoulda been wearin’ stuff like this a long time ago.”

You flushed, trying to shrug it off. “It’s just... different, you know? I’m still not totally comfortable.”

Logan’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer until your chest was pressed against his. “Well, get comfortable,” he said, voice firm but soft, his eyes locking with yours. “You’ve got nothin’ to hide. Not from me, not from anyone.”

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re beautiful. All of you. Don’t need to cover that up with baggy clothes anymore.”

A warmth bloomed in your chest, the way it always did when Logan looked at you like this—like he couldn’t believe his luck, like you were the most incredible thing he’d ever seen. And slowly, you started to believe him.

With a small smile, you leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Thanks, Lo,” you murmured, feeling a little more confident with his arms around you.

He grunted, kissing you back with a little more heat, his hands roaming up your sides before settling on your hips. “Don’t thank me, sweetheart,” he growled, pulling you closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Just wear the damn top and make everyone else jealous.”

you only let out a soft whine as your response. your whine is muffled with the way you refuse to lift your head off the bed. there’s drool on the bedsheets, but still you don’t care, too preoccupied with Logan.

he’s everywhere. he’s hands on your body, gripping your hips, slipping between your thighs to rub your sensitive clit. his lips are pressed against your back, occasionally pressed on your shoulders. his thighs slap against the back of yours with each thrust.

“how’s it feel, princess?”

his voice is taunting.

he knows.

he sees the drool, he feels the way your ass squeezes him. he hears your moans, he sees the way you grip the bedsheets at every thrust. all the while, the wetness between your thighs lets him know he’s doing a good job.

“feels good huh?”

“so good”

with the pillow beneath your pelvis, you have the pleasure of relaxing, letting the pillow arch your back for you. something logan even commented on, ‘it’s okay, princess, don’t have to worry bout a thing.’

a part of you was giddy when he whispered for you to lay on your tummy.

with your cheek resting on the bed, you couldn’t see much of logan, but you didn’t need to. you knew his eyes were filled with lust as he tugged off your underwear, lifting each leg one by one, not letting you help him one bit. whispering, “don’t have to move a single muscle.”

and that’s you found yourself, gripping the sheets, not bothering to push back and meet logan’s thrusts.

true to his words, logan did all the work. his cock stood tall against his belly, waiting patiently as he prepped you.

“such pretty holes, princess,” he groans spreading your cheeks apart before continuing, “want me to fill em?”

lazily, you nod against the sheets. barely pick on up on the shuffling he does to grab a small bottle of lube. you only feel him press his thumb against your ass, pushing til you finally give.

“let me fill you up like last time,” he groaned when you took his thumb with ease. “won’t have to do a thing, just lay there and look pretty.”

you only moan his name.

“how does that sound?”

“sounds good, lo” after a couple minutes, his finger replaced his thumb, then a second finger joined, then a third.

and that’s how you found yourself moaning his name over and over. his cock replaced his finger and suddenly you felt so full.

every thrust deeper than the last.

everything’s too much and he knows it.

“you’re close princess?”

you’re overwhelmed with his smell, his moans, his cock, his everything.

“can feel you squeezing me so tight,” he fucks you harder.

“come on, let go. i’m almost there,” he reassures.

with his hand sneaking beneath your hips and between your thighs, he find your clit. his deep thrusts paired with his fingers rubbing your clit have you falling over the edge.

it’s intense, but it doesn’t stop.

“almost there, princess.”

there’s almost a whine in his voice, so you let him. not like you have a choice, twitching beneath him, trapped by his weight. his fingers still rubbing your clit, it’s not long until you’re overstimulated.

so you start to beg with a sob.

“please plea-”

tears have now join the stains on the bedsheets.

“want my cum that bad?”

so close to another orgasm you beg harder, “yes, yes, please.”

“so close lo”

“need your cum so bad.”

with a final thrust, the both of you fall over the edge.

with a loud curse, logan empties himself inside you, groaning as he feels his cock twitch inside you. the hand between your thighs is gone and now spreading you open once more. you whine softly when you feel logan pull out.

you feel filthy under his gaze.

you can only sit there as he watches your hole clench around nothing, already missing his cock. he groans when his cum leaks out of you, reaching to shove it back inside with his thumb.

“ah logan-”

“sorry princess, didn’t want it to hit the sheets.”

you only roll your eyes, sighing softly when his thumb works as a plug. you need a shower. your skin is sticky with sweat, your inner thighs soaked-

“princess?”

“mmm”

“gonna make me do all the work in the shower too?”

- not edited - reblogs and comments are appreciated !