it's too bad that being in a jar has such strong connotations. I'd love to be in a jar. a little glass enclosure all to myself. put some leaves and sticks and colorful rocks in there and I'm having a great time
Sorry, not sorry but DOFP Logan is the lloml (Logan love of my life) so I am....
Thinking about
Logan holding you close when you ride him early in the morning. His thick cock stretching your walls that were so eager for him when you woke up today.
Logan letting your head fall to his chest. Smothering you between his 'tits', and he doesn't like you calling them that but... Well, we know what they are. How he would try not to whine as you played with his nipples.
Logan who gets impatient waiting on you to hurry things along, so he flips you both over; throwing your legs onto his shoulders. Growling in your ear as he moves you into a mating press so early in the morning.
Logan letting out soft grunts as he buries himself in your sweet pussy over and over and over again. The tip of his cock notching into your cervix like he was trying to carve a home for himself inside of you.
Logan speeding up, despite being sleepy. Driven by the biological need to fuck himself deeper inside you. How the bedsprings creak and groan, protesting loudly under your combined weight atop one another. His grunting getting just a bit louder as he starts to hammer himself into you.
Logan and how his jaw would clench; teeth would chatter, as he got close. Like an animal in heat. Or rut. Whichever works best for the man stretching you out. How he would wince at the feeling of his claws beginning to prick out of his knuckles, but not fully unsheathe themselves. The urge to finish making him buck faster.
Logan and the loud groan he would let out when he finally came. It echoed in your ears, and the way his jaw fell slack was burnt into your memory. Warmth flooding and invading your walls, as he gave his last few, rough thrusts into you before stilling.
Logan pulling out and collapsing into bed next to you with a heavy sigh. How he would pull you back next to him so you were pressed against his warm body. Thumb rubbing circles over the skin of your tummy. Before he quickly fell back asleep for another twenty minutes.
summary: you are struggling with your body image after giving birth six months ago. logan reminds you exactly whose woman you are.
warnings: body image issues, negative self-talk, fluff, angst, smut, oral sex (f receiving)
word count: 2.5k
author's note: this is my first time writing in YEARS please please leave me constructive feedback ok thanks <3
It has been six months since you gave birth to a healthy baby girl. You watch Logan with adoration, he has especially taken to fatherhood. You are convinced he was put on this earth just to be a dad.
But for you, things arenât so simple. It doesnât come as easy to you.
On top of adjusting to your new life and your new role as a mother, you are struggling with the changes to your body. The weight fluctuations, the stretch marks, the aching pains - you donât feel at home in your body anymore. It feels foreign to you. Alien.
The two of you havenât had sex at all since you gave birth, and you never let Logan see you fully naked. Ever.
Logan respected your boundaries, of course, but it was getting harder for him to watch you be so harsh on yourself. He looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and ever since giving him the greatest gift - a healthy little one - you were even more perfect in his eyes.
But you didnât see it that way.
You were examining your underwear-clad body in the vanity mirror, lost in your chaotic thoughts, when you noticed Logan in the reflection. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his white t-shirt pulled taut against his muscles. His features softened when you turned around to face him.
âHey.â His usual gruff voice took on a softer tone, one he reserved just for you. He pushed off the wall and approached you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. âYouâre beautiful. Yâknow that, right?â
You looked away. You didnât believe him.
âIs she down?â you ask him, turning back to sift through the open drawer for a night shirt. You hoped he wouldnât notice your deflection.
But he noticed. Of course he did.
His jaw tightened. He was frustrated - not at you, but at himself. He didnât know how to fix this. He could take on armies, heal from bullets, but watching you tear yourself apart hurt him more than any enemy could.
âYeah. Out cold.â He took a step closer. âKid sleeps like you - nothinâ in the world can wake her once sheâs down.â
He took in a breath, hesitating for a moment. He knew this was a sensitive topic, but he couldnât watch you do this any longer. He reached out and caught your wrist before you could pull the shirt over your head.
âLook at me.â Not a demand, but a plea. âTalk to me, baby. Whatâs goinâ on inside that head?â
You were still for a moment before you pulled out of his grasp. You tugged the shirt over your head and turned away from him, busying yourself with sorting the clean laundry sitting atop the dresser. âNothing. Iâm fine.â
He couldnât do this. He grabbed you, gently, turning you around to face him. His hands gripped your shoulders.
âBullshit.â His voice came out rougher than intended. âYou arenât âfineâ, darlinâ. Havenât been for months now. And I am sick of watchinâ you suffer in silence.â
He loosened his grip, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your skin.
âI love you. Every inch of you. Nothinâ is gonna change that.â
You tried to pull away, but his large hands travelled to your neck, cupping your jaw as he tilted your head up, forcing you to look at him.
âYou gotta talk to me. Let me help you.â
Tears pricked at your eyes. You wanted so badly to believe him, but the negative thoughts were too loud. Too consuming. You took a shuddering breath as you attempted to steady yourself.
âIâŠI donât feel like myself anymore, Logan. My bodyâŠâ
You choked on a sob, closing your eyes as the tears finally fell.
âItâs not the same. Iâm not the same. Iâm scared that you donât find me attractive anymore. That youâll leave me for someone younger, prettierâŠâ
He stood there in shock as your words trailed off, a sharp pang shooting through his chest. The thought of leaving you - of wanting anyone else - was laughable. Didnât you know that you were everything to him?Â
His voice dropped to a growl. âNow you listen real good, sweetheart. There ainât a single damn thing about you that ainât perfect to me. Stretch marks, scars, every bit of you - itâs all part of the woman who carried our kid, who fought like hell to bring her into this world.â
He pressed his forehead to yours, letting out a shaky exhale.
âYou think some shiny new toy could replace you? Not a chance in hell.â
You blinked, your eyes still watery. In spite of the darkness swirling around you, a flicker of hope ignited deep in your chest.
âI want to believe you, Logan. I do. ButâŠfeeling like my body isnât mine anymoreâŠâ You shook your head. âI feel like Iâve lost controlâŠâ
He pulled you closer, wrapping his strong arms around you. One hand cradled the back of your head, holding your face to his chest while the other rubbed soothing circles over your lower back.
âI know, baby,â he murmured. âBut you created a life. Our daughter wouldnât exist without you.â
He pulled back just enough to tuck a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his.
âWe will get through this. Iâm here. Always.â
You sniffle as you dig your fingernails into his waist, burying your face into his chest once more, allowing yourself to melt in his embrace. For the first time in months, you feel safe. Seen.
âThank you.â Your voice is muffled against him, your tears staining the fabric of his shirt. Then, an idea comes to you. âCan weâŠtry something?â
Before he can answer, you take his hand. Slowly, cautiously, you guide it under your shirt, resting his large palm against your bare stomach. You take in a breath.
His touch is soft, gentle. It catches you by surprise how a man like Logan can be so delicate in how he handles you.
He traces your stretch marks with deliberate care, skimming his fingers over each scar like theyâre sacred. âChrist, babyâŠâ When he meets your eyes, thereâs a fire in his gaze.
âEvery one of these?â He drags his thumb over a silvery line. âProof youâre a goddamn warrior.â
He drops to his knees, like youâre a goddess heâs meant to worship. Because you are. In his eyes, you are.
He presses a kiss just below your navel, his bearded chin grazing the waistband of your panties. The stubble tickles you, as always, sending a rush of heat between your thighs. He looks up at you as he murmurs, âNever hidinâ this from me again.â
The tears once again spill freely down your cheeks. Relief floods through you. Why did you ever doubt him?
You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he presses his lips to every scar. Every imperfection you tried to hide, he honors with his mouth.
âI wonât,â you whisper. It takes all your strength to keep standing straight. âButâŠgo slow, okay? Some days might still be hard.â
You bite your lip as he continues kissing you. âBut maybeâŠtonightâŠyou could remind me why youâre still so crazy about me?â
His lips curl, grinning as a heat floods through his veins. Slowly, he rises to his feet, walking you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed.
His hands slide up your thighs, pushing the hem of your shirt higher. âDarlinâ,â he rasps, nipping at your earlobe, âI plan on takinâ my damn time.â
He pushes you back. You bounce against the edge of the mattress, resting on your elbows as you gaze up at him.
He hovers above you, drinking in the beautiful sight - your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the trust in your eyes. His voice comes out as a purr. âSix months without you nearly killed me.â
He drops to his knees, parting your thighs. âTonight Iâm gonna make sure you remember exactly whose woman you are.â
Your heart races at his promise. His intensity is overwhelming, but you trust him completely.
You reach out, rubbing your thumb over his cheek as he nuzzles into your palm. âPlease, Logan.â Your words are breathless as you arch into him.
Slowly, reverently, he peels the shirt over your head, and you waste no time in unfastening your bra, leaving you in only your panties. His hands map over your curves like heâs memorizing you for the first time. His calloused palms graze over your soft flesh, causing you to mewl and squirm against him.
He leans forward, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your breasts. He captures one dusky nipple between his teeth, making you gasp. You have been extra sensitive since giving birth. He soothes the sting with his tongue as his hand drifts beneath your panties, teasing your slick folds with maddening restraint. The fabric is soaked through, your wetness coating his fingers as he rubs your clit slowly with the tip of his thumb.
You taste like honey and home, like everything he has missed for far too long. Every sound you make goes straight to his core, twisting something loose he had suppressed for months.
Heâs desperate for you. He wants to devour you - to claim and conquer what is rightfully his.
But he forces himself to slow, to savour you. Because you? This woman, this miraculous creature who has given him everything? You deserve the whole fucking world - and tonight, he intends to show you heaven.
As he lavishes attention on your skin, you thread your fingers through his hair, urging him to take more of you.
He can feel how ready you are, how much you need this. How much you need him. And he swears, he will never again let you forget how worshipped you are. He wants to erase every second you ever doubted yourself. Wants to carve his love into your skin, one touch at a time.
The noises you make? Like music he didnât know he was aching to hear. Nobody else gets this from you. Nobody else ever will. His girlâŠsoaked through and trembling, holding on to him like heâs an anchor. Thereâs nothing more beautiful than that, heâs sure of it. He will kiss every fear out of you, starting tonight.
Eyes fluttering shut, you bite your lip. These sensations and emotions, theyâre almost too much. But in his arms, you arenât so afraid. Especially not when he looks at you like youâre the most precious thing heâs ever seen.
You moan louder, arching desperately into his mouth and hand, your hips rocking against his fingers. Your voice cracks as you plead with him. âLoganâŠâ
Your voice - your pleading gaze - it goddamn undoes him. Every fiber of his being screams at him to rip into you, to stake his claim and drown you both in unrestrained passion. He aches to bury himself deep, to feel you clench around him like you were made for him and him alone.
Six months of missing this - missing you - has carved holes in him no regenerative abilities can heal. But not yet. He wonât take you yet. Youâre fragile right now. He knows that. Youâre trusting him tonight. And heâd rather claw his own heart out than betray your trust.
He drags his fingers from your soaked panties, kissing a path down your belly.
Your hips roll, desperate to feel his mouth where you need it most. âBabyâŠâ
Hearing you beg - so soft, so needy - it damn near breaks him. His name on your lips is better than the finest whiskey. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down slowly, savouring every inch of skin he uncovers.
Then he settles back between your thighs, bracing your legs over his broad shoulders. Your pretty lips glisten for him - open, wet, his. And fuck, he intends on tasting every drop.
The first swipe of his tongue pulls a strangled cry from your throat, and he groans like a lost man finding salvation. Your flavour consumes him - sweet and undeniably you. He works you with his tongue, slow and deep, licking into you like heâs claiming every part of you.Â
His thumbs spread you wide, allowing him to lap at you hungrily, relentlessly.
You cry out, clutching the sheets as waves of pleasure crash over you. You canât stop the tears from forming, a result of the rapture you didnât know you needed.
âLoganâŠâ You writhe beneath him, your hips bucking against his mouth. You feel broken and beautiful all at once, like the pieces of yourself are stitching back together with every flick of his tongue.
Each sob, every scream - it brands itself into him. Youâre falling apart underneath his touch, and Christ, heâs never seen anything so breathtaking.
This is what you needed. What you both needed.
He doesnât stop, he canât. Not when youâre unraveling like silk in his hands. His tongue drives deeper, faster. He curls it just right against your swollen clit. One hand grips your thigh tight, anchoring you to him, while the other slides up your torso to cup your breast. He pinches your nipple lightly.
âYouâre mine, baby,â he murmurs against you, barely moving his mouth away from your sex.
The possessive growl of his voice sends a fresh jolt of electricity zinging through you. You gasp, your nails digging into his biceps as your body tightens. Youâre close.
âY-Yours.â Your entire body trembles. âAll yours.â
Hearing you say it - feeling you confirm what heâs always known - drives him mad.
He doubles down on his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips and dragging his tongue over the nub in slow, deliberate strokes. His fingers dig into your plush skin, marking you, claiming you.Â
When he feels you start to shake, your breath catching in your throat - he latches on tighter, drawing it out, refusing to let you hide. He wants you to feel it, to believe him. Because as your climax crashes over you, he knows thereâs not a damn thing he wouldnât do to keep you coming undone like this forever.
Your orgasm steals your breath, scattering your thoughts into nothingness. Your body bows off the bed, caught between agony and ecstasy, between fear and absolute trust. Youâre crying now - soft, broken little sounds - as your orgasm rips through you, leaving you shaking.
âL-LoganâŠâ Your voice trembles, just like the rest of you. Your fingers reach for him, blindly, needing to touch him, to feel him close. As you come down from your high, you feel a shift inside you. You canât believe you ever doubted him or his devotion to you. Heâs your home.
He rises above you, catching your trembling hands in his and threading your fingers together. His lips find yours - fierce, hungry - letting you taste yourself on him. Letting you feel how much he needed this, needed you.
âI love you, baby.â Heâll never let you forget again.
