He Could Fix Me But I Could Ruin Him

he could fix me but i could ruin him

awhh just imagine logan taking care of his girl

cw: nsfw (smut), overstimulation, crying, fluff

you’re bouncing on logan’s cock, arms supporting your weight as you lean on his abs. you’re tired and whining in his lap desperately as you ride out your orgasm, pussy gushing all over his cock as logan’s fingers rub your puffy clit. gradually, the rolling of your hips slows down as you lay your body on logan’s chest, huffs and pants escaping your lips. you sigh, your pussy greedily pulsating around logan’s length despite your exhaustion.

suddenly, logan grabs a steady hold of your hips and begins bouncing you on his girth. you’re weary and awfully sensitive.

“lo, please,” you cry out. but all you can do is take it, his cock abusing your pussy at a relentless pace, his cum leaking out of you from just moments ago. “i can’t anymore.” he fucks up into you, your cunt warm and full of his seed. your whines don’t stop, but neither does he. how is he not tired?

“you can take it, doll.” he grunts out, the sound of your moans and wet cunt taking his cock filling the room. you dig your nails into his back and logan groans out in pain as his thrusts get harder. tears pool in your eyes and you scratch at his back, holding onto him for dear life as you feel another orgasm approaching. the delicious pain this brings logan only causes him to speed up. your warm cunt is welcoming, the head of his cock hitting the special spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. your tears spill out your eyes as your orgasm suddenly crashes over you like an unforgiving wave, the ocean so deep it feels like you’re drowning. 

“my sweet little thing.” you register logan’s voice, but it’s like a fleeting sound far, far away. you’re engulfed in this never-ending sense of pleasure. his hands are roaming all over your body, wanting to hold his baby close. 

this state of ecstasy is incomparable, you feel like you’re on cloud nine, your body denying your tired mind as your hole clenches around logan’s cock, your own hips betraying you as you bounce up and down his length, milking him as his seed paints your walls white. his warm cum leaks out of your pulsating hole, his lap a mess already.

you feel as if you’re slowly regaining consciousness, your tears running down your cheeks out of sheer overstimulation. your breathing is heavy and you thrash in logan’s arms as he slowly takes his cock out of you. his heart sinks in his stomach as he watches you cry and shake in his lap.

“it’s ok, baby. ‘m right here.” logan coos in your ear, his hold on your body so tight, you’d think he’s never letting you go. his palm gently runs up down your back while you thrash and writhe in his arms, tears staining your rose-tinted cheeks.

“daddy’s right here.” his soft murmurs calm your nerves as he runs his fingers through your disheveled hair, combing it as best as he can, trying to get it out of your face in attempts to cool you down. his body is oh so warm as you lean on him, your sobs slowly subsiding. logan chuckles as you still hiccup quietly, so you give him a playful push to the arm.

“hey, it’s not funny.” you huff out, sniffling.

“i’m sorry, baby.” he replies teasingly, gathering your hair at the back of your head in a makeshift ponytail as he gives your lips a few loving pecks. 

“let’s clean you up.” logan mumbles against your lips in a small smile. his favorite thing to do after sex is take care of you, so you let him pamper you, his calloused hands massaging your neck as you sigh.

for logan, it’s routine - he runs you a bath and lights your favorite vanilla-scented candles. his palms run all over you, rubbing soothing circles on your skin. he gently cleans between your legs as you whine, your pussy still sensitive. he strokes your back, massages your thighs and the dimples on your lower back.

and after he’s done, he carefully wraps your body in a towel, treating you like you’re his little porcelain doll, like he’s too afraid to break you. “arms up.” logan says as he carefully puts the t-shirt on you. his t-shirt. the one which barely covers the curve of your ass. he curses himself for his choice of clothing, but he swears that he’s a better man. a good one. so he lets his girl rest tonight, your body cradled in his arms where you feel most at peace.

if i survived a slasher it’s because i fucked him

how many aura points do I lose for giggling and kicking my feet over him??

The Making of Scoobynatural

every emotionally repressed traumatized man older man needs a giggly little hyperfem girlfriend to fix him